Force of Destiny
by Llarian Ashbourne
Summary: An accident reveals an old deception, and Darth Vader must make a decision that will change not only his life. AU
1. Prologue

**Force of Destiny**

** Summary: **   
An accident reveals an old deception, and Darth Vader must make a decision that will change not only his life. 

* * *

** Prologue **

Anakin desperately raised his lightsaber to parry Obi-Wan's angry attacks. The blows rained down on his defense, pushing him back further and further. Behind him, though, was the abyss. Hot, poisonous smoke billowed from the volcanic crater, making his eyes water. Deep down Anakin could hear the noise of the boiling lava. Strange how mortal fear sharpened ones senses. Anakin was wounded already; a hit from Obi-Wans luminous blade had laid open his face and scalp. But he lived still. He could still fight for his life. Obi-Wan, too, was bleeding from several wounds. 

With a wild scream Anakin threw himself to one side, sword raised to counter another attack, but his foot slipped on a loose pebble. Time seemed to stretch and like in slow motion he saw Obi-Wan's blade sever his right hand. The hand, still clutching the lightsaber, whirled away. Anakin saw less blood than one would expect from such a severe injury. The energy blade had cauterized the stump. His brain barely had time to register the pain when he felt the ground crumble beneath his feet and he plummeted into the abyss. He tried to call up the Force, but it eluded him. 

The crater wall was not smooth, but pocked with fissures and ledges. Anakin hit several of the latter during his fall and he felt his ribs break and the bone in his left upper arm splinter. He did not scream; it would be pointless, he would die anyway, burned to ashes by the lava. But he was wrong. Another ledge stopped his fall. He did not feel the impact; he only heard the sickenig sound of his neck breaking. Neither did he feel the pain from his severed hand anymore, nor that from his broken arm, although he could see the white bone splinters protrude from his flesh. 

For a moment he thought he heard Obi-Wans voice call his name. 

Breathing became increasingly difficult. He could barely draw air into his lungs. At least he did not have to feel the acrid smoke burn his lungs. Finally, darkness descended upon him. 

* * *

To be continued... 


	2. The Accident

**Force of Destiny**

** Summary: **   
An accident reveals an old deception, and Darth Vader must make a decision that will change not only his life. 

* * *

** Chapter One **

22 years later, on board the Executor 

Darth Vader entered the bridge with measured steps, as he did every morning. Few crew members still raised their heads as the Sithlord went past them. They used to, only to avert their eyes again in fear. They used to, before Bespin. Vader had grown milder since the day he had confronted Luke. That he had almost lost his son - by his own doing! - had changed him. He had become quieter. More thoughtful. He used to act first, and think later. Too often he had his anger allowed to lead him, with disastrous results. Not anymore. 

Vader stepped close to Admiral Piett, who was just signing the last watches reports. 

"Good morning, Lord Vader." 

Vader returned Piett's greeting with a nod. "Any news, Admiral?" 

"No reports on the rebellion or Skywalker, Mylord. But the first ten TIE Avenger were delivered by transport ship last night." 

"Excellent", Vader rumbled. "Have one of the fighters readied. I will make the first test flight myself." 

"Already done, Sir." 

Vader smiled behind his mask. "You know me too well, Admiral", he observed, turned and left the bridge. His steps were more energetic. Piett allowed himself a thin smile. Yes, he knew Lord Vader. And he admired and respected the man. 

It had not always been like this. In the beginning he had feared Vader, his brutality as well as his sudden mood swings. But soon he started to rely on Vader's inspirations, and he did well with that. Vader, on the other hand, learned to rely on Piett's quiet competence, and the relationship between the two men soon grew much more relaxed than that between Vader and Ozzel had ever been. 

* * *

Darth Vader strode into the main hangar. He was looking forward to trying out the new TIE Avenger. The joy he always felt when he could fly, the only freedom left for him, was doubled by the fact that these new ships were his own design. Ten of them stood on the tiles of the hangar, their hulls gleaming in the harsh light. Darth Vader regarded them with pride. They were even more beautiful than he had dreamed, sleek, deadly, the fastest and most maneuverable fighters ever built. Slowly, he stepped up to the nearest Avenger, gently laying his gloved hand on a solar panel, almost a caress. They would need a light touch on the controls, responding almost to a thought. Vader suppressed a sigh. Oh yes, he was going to enjoy flying this deadly beauty. 

A young man in the coveralls of a mechanic, sporting the rank insignia of a staff sergeant, stepped up to Lord Vader and bowed reverently. 

"Mylord, we have readied an Avenger for flight", he announced. 

"Good", Vader acknowledged. "I will test it myself. Which one is it?" 

"This one", replied the youngster, pointing at the TIE Vader had been admiring. 

The Dark Lord almost chuckled. Judging by the exhausted looks of the sergeant and his team, they had prepped not one, but all ten fighters for him to choose. Such diligence was commendable. 

"Good work, Sergeant. What is your name?" 

"Garin, Mylord. Torb Garin." 

Vader nodded and undid the clasp on his cloak. "Hold this", he commanded, handing Garin the heavy garment. "I will be back soon." 

With catlike grace, Vader climbed upon the panel support, foregoing the use of a ladder. Throwing the top hatch open, he squeezed his massive frame through it to settle into the pilot's seat and strap in. The push of a button closed the hatch again. Another button opened a comm channel to the bridge. 

"This is test flight one, requesting permission for take off", he spoke into the commlink. 

"Permission granted, test flight one." 

Quickly Vader went through the pre-flight check. 

"All systems read green. Test flight one is ready for launch." 

He fired up the engines, and, giving Garin the age-old thumbs-up sign, he lifted off and took the Avenger out of the hangar. 

Vader opened the throttle just enough to gain some distance from the Executor before flying some basic maneuvers. He quickly became familiar with how the Avenger handled; she reacted to his slightest touch, just like he had designed her to. 

Bolder now, Vader accelerated, taking the Avenger first into a loop and then into a tight spin. He was determined to take the fighter to its limits. His heart sang as the engines roared, the acceleration pushing him back in his seat. This was what made life bearable for him despite his handicaps. Flying ever more complicated maneuvers, he guided the Avenger in a wide arc back to the Executor when he first noticed that something was not quite right. 

A slight imbalance in engine power caused the little ship to drift off to the left. Frowning behind his steel mask, Vader gripped the control stick a little harder and corrected the course. The Avenger obeyed easily enough, but it still felt sluggish and unresponsive compared to its earlier behavior. And suddenly yellow warning lights began to flash. 

Vader pulled the control to neutral position, allowing the craft to drift, and opened a comm channel to the ship. 

"Executor, I have a problem", he announced. 

"This is Executor. Lord Vader, we have you on our screen. Your engines are overheating." The voice of the flight controller was calm, unhurried, despite the situation. Vader realized the man was trained to keep control of the situation, to calm down a panicked pilot. 

"Affirmative, Executor", he answered. "You'll have to pull me in. Shutting down engine..." At this moment, the warning light on the No. 3 engine went from yellow to an angry red. Vader cursed under his breath. 

"Repeat, please, test flight one. We did not copy that." 

Of course not, Vader thought, realizing that he had lapsed into gutter Huttese. He reached for the controls that would shut off the overheated No. 3 engine when another engine went critical and exploded without warning. Vader would have been thrown out of the seat had it not been for the safety harness as the small craft spun wildly out of control. As it was, his chest connected hard with the control stick, shattering his respirator, knocking the breath out of him. A part of the overhead control panel broke loose, smashing into his helmet, and everything went black. 

* * *

"Test flight one, please respond. Lord Vader, do you copy?" 

"I have him on my scope. He's alive, but he's fading fast." 

Piett heard the commotion and hurried over to flight control. "What happened?" he demanded. 

"It's Lord Vader, Sir. His engines went critical." 

Piett paled visibly. "Pull him in. Now!" He reached over to the commlink and threw the switch. "Stand by tractor control. Submitting coordinates." He signaled the flight controller, who punched the numbers into the board. 

"Coordinates confirmed. Locking on target... flight control, the target is not stable", came the slightly distorted voice from the hangar deck's tractor control room. 

"Never mind, tractor control. The pilot is still alive. Pull him in now!" 

"She's spinning too fast! She'll break up before we can get a grip on her." 

"Do it!" Piett shouted and broke the connection. Next he opened a channel to sickbay. "Medical team to the hangar deck", he commanded in a clipped tone. 

"Sickbay here, Dr. Hanley speaking. What is the nature of the emergency?" 

"What?" Piett stared at the commlink. 

"We're pulling in a fighter with engine trouble. Nature and extent of injuries unknown. Pilot will need full life support", the flight controller cut in. 

"Understood. I'm on my way", Dr. Hanley confirmed. 

Piett cut the connection and ran out, heading for the hangar deck. 

* * *

A claxon blared, alerting Torb Garin and his team just as the tractor beam pulled the crippled Avenger through the hangar's electromagnetic seal. Tractor control had worked a miracle and managed to pull the craft in in one piece. Now they were about to set it down right way up. Garin ran up to the Avenger, taking care to stay clear of the beam. "Sith", he muttered under his breath and gesticulated wildly in the direction of the tractor control room. The officer in charge noticed him and caught on immediately. 

"Turn her on a panel", he commanded. 

"Sir?" 

"Put her down on one of her panels, or they won't be able to pull Lord Vader out." 

"Yes, Sir." 

The controller complied and spun the small ship before setting her on the deck. Garin wasted no time opening the hatch, while his men sprayed the overheated engines with a fire-extinguishing agent to prevent them from combusting within the ship's atmosphere. That was the greatest immediate danger; outside, in the hard vacuum of space, there was no oxygen to fuel a fire. But once pulled inside the atmosphere on board a larger ship, pilots already thought to be safe had died horribly when the plastics built into their ships went up in flames. 

Smoke poured from the fighter's cockpit, and Garin coughed, blindly reaching in to release the safety harness. Lord Vader's seemingly lifeless body hung partially out of the seat; Garin managed to free him and grab his shoulders. He started to pull the man out, swearing as he did so. 

"I could use a little help here", he grunted. Kenny, the most junior member of his team, dropped his fire extinguisher and hurried to assist him. Together they pulled Darth Vader out and carried him a safe distance from the Avenger before laying him on the deck. Garin wiped the sweat from his brow. Where was the medical team? 

Kenny's voice cut into his thought: "He's not breathing." 

* * *

To be continued... 


	3. Surgery

**Force of Destiny**

** Summary: **   
An accident reveals an old deception, and Darth Vader must make a decision that will change not only his life. 

* * *

My thanks to Vanessa Djuva for allowing me to use "Tomas" as Piett's first name.  
Also, I would like to thank Dr. Curtis Saxton for his essay on Darth Vader's injuries; it is available on [http://www.theforce.net][1] and largely inspired this story. I must note, however, that the conclusions I have drawn are my own, as well as any mistakes. 

* * *

**Chapter 2**

"He's not breathing!"

"Kreth! Can you get a pulse on him?" Garin asked. 

Reluctantly, Kenny laid his hand on Vader's chest. "I... I think I feel a heartbeat, but it's weak and very slow." Kenny looked up at Garin for guidance.

"We've got to get his helmet off. Where is that medical team?" Garin practically shouted that last sentence. He took Vader's helmet off and threw it aside. The upper part of the mask came next, revealing Darth Vader's pale, scarred face. Kenny gasped at the sight. Garin fumbled with the lower part of the mask. It was attached to a kind of neck guard, but within seconds, he managed to pry it loose and put it aside. He bowed over the unconscious man and started to give Lord Vader mouth-to- mouth. 

"His pulse is still slow", Kenny said in a small, scared voice. The boy could not take his eyes off Vader's face. Fresh out of training, Kenny had yet to see a battle and what it could do to a human body. 

Having done all they could do with the fighter at the moment, the team gathered round Garin and watched in morbid fascination as he continued to breathe for Vader.

Admiral Piett arrived in the hangar at a dead run, cursing the size of the ship and the speed limitations of turbo lifts and tube cars. He skidded to a halt in front of the tableau before him; Lord Vader was lying on the floor, unconscious or worse, without his mask and helmet. An ugly purplish bruise was forming on his left temple. A staff sergeant was crouched over him, giving him mouth to mouth, while a young crewman, hardly more than a boy, knelt next to him with his hand on Vader's chest. Three other men stood watching them in a semi circle. The boy looked about ready to pass out; his face was almost whiter than that of the Sithlord. 

The staff sergeant stopped his attempts to resuscitate Vader and slapped the Sithlord's face, hard.

"Breathe!" he yelled. "Breathe, dammit! I won't let you slip away like that!"

"He can't", Piett told him with a calm he did not feel. "You must continue to breathe for him. The doctor is on his way."

Garin looked up for a moment, nodded once, and continued. 

Piett gently laid a hand on Kenny's shoulder. The boy looked up at him, his eyes wide with shock.

"He's alive, Sir", he whispered. "I can feel his heart beat."

"It's alright, crewman. You've done well. Let me take over now."

Kenny scurried back to allow the admiral to take his place. Piett knelt down at Vader's side, touching the side of his neck lightly, searching for a pulse. Vader's skin felt cold and clammy under his touch. The pulse was weak, thready, and much too slow. At least he was still alive. They only had to keep him that way until the medical team arrived.

Piett heaved a sigh of relief when the hangar doors opened again to admit Dr. Parker Hanley, followed by a 2-1B unit with a repulsor gurney heaped with equipment. Piett had met him only once, when Dr. Hanley reported to him as he started his tour of duty on the Executor. The new CMO's brusque manner earned him the admiral's instant dislike, but aside from being insubordinate, he was also a good physician and an excellent surgeon. Back then, Piett decided he would simply have to put up with the man. After he, he could not be worse than Darth Vader, could he?

"Alright, people, the show's over", Parker Hanley announced, glaring at the tech team that still gawked at their Lord lying unconscious on the floor. "Move out of the way and let me do my job." Shoving the onlookers out of his way, he gestured to the 2-1B to hand him a scanner. 

"But Sir, this is Lord Vader", the droid complained. "He has his own 2-1B unit to take care of him."

Hanley's eyes narrowed. "Well, I don't see it here, and we don't have time for professional courtesy. The man needs help now."

"Yes, Sir." 2-1B handed him the medical scanner before lowering the gurney so that they could load the patient onto it. 

Quickly, Hanley ran the scanner over Vader's limp body, avoiding to disturb Garin, who was still breathing for the Sithlord. Laying the scanner aside in favor of a small lamp, he lifted Vader's eyelids and shone light into the startlingly blue eyes to check pupil reaction. "Good", he muttered. "A mild concussion and a couple bruised ribs, complicated by his need for constant life support." He patted Garin's shoulder. "You can stop now, Sergeant. We'll put him on oxygen." Garin slumped back, red faced and sweating. Hanley signaled Garin's team to help him lift Vader onto the gurney. He did not have to explain much; every tech team was routinely trained in first aid. They hastily assumed position around Darth Vader. 

"Okay, boys, on the count of three, lift him up. One, two, three!"  
They did, and Hanley, who supported Vader's head and neck, nearly dropped him when a strangled, gurgling sound came from the Dark Lord's throat.

"Trying to breathe on your own, hmmm?" he muttered. "Good man. Do that again." 

The team moved back as one when Vader's left hand twitched in a sudden cramp. The still unconscious man struggled to draw air into his lungs. 

"I can see you need help here. Relax", Hanley murmured, pressing a respirator over Vader's face. Pure oxygen was pumped into his starved lungs, and Vader's body went limp again. 

Hanley stepped around to Vader's left side, and, removing the glove first, cut open the sleeve of the Dark Lord's suit. Producing a ready prepared syringe from the gurney's integral drug and instrument compartment, he injected Vader with a medication to counteract the symptoms of shock the Sithlord was showing. 

On Admiral Piett's curious stare, he explained: "His blood pressure is too low, only 80 over 40. He probably went into shock when his life support system failed. He's not showing all classical symptoms. His pulse is slow instead of fast, but I believe that is part of his condition." He gestured towards the smashed respirator on Vader's chest. "We need to stabilize him before we move him to sickbay."

Checking Vader's pulse and blood pressure again, Dr. Hanley grunted in satisfaction. "That did the trick. He's stable enough for transport."

"I will check with you later, Doctor", Piett said as Hanley prepared to leave with his charge. The physician nodded, obviously already in sickbay with his thoughts.

Piett then turned to Garin, who was just picking himself up from the floor.  
"Sergeant, I believe you and your team are in for a commendation. That was excellent work, and you probably saved Lord Vader's life today."

"Does that mean he won't be court martialed, Sir?" a member of Garin's team piped in. 

Piett looked at the man. "Whatever for?" he inquired.

The man blushed deeply, fumbling for words. "Well, he... he did hit Lord Vader. In the face."

"Oh, that." Piett's lips twitched in amusement. "Lord Vader is not a member of the military, so the paragraph about hitting a senior officer does not apply to him. However, he does not need to know about it." He turned his attention towards Garin. "Incidentally, what made you hit him?"

Garin straightened up, wiping the sweat from his brow with his sleeve.   
"Sir, I've never lost a pilot without enemy fire. I wasn't going to this time", he said, tightly.

Piett nodded, satisfied. "Report to me later, sergeant. You and your team get some rest now."

"With your permission, Sir, I would like to find out what caused this." Garin gestured towards the crippled Avenger.

"Later, Sergeant, after you've rested. I will make sure nobody touches the ship until then. Dismissed." Piett signaled two stormtroopers and ordered them to guard the wreck before leaving for sickbay himself.

* * *

General Veers caught up with Piett almost at the door to the Executor's sickbay.

"Tomas! I just heard. How is he?" he called.

"I was just going to find out, Max", Piett replied. The two highest ranking officers on board the Executor had been on a first name basis for several months now. "He was still unconscious when they moved him."

"What happened?" 

Piett palmed open the door before answering. "He took a TIE Avenger out for a test flight. The engines overheated, and one of them exploded. He's lucky to still be alive." 

"I heard one of his rescuers slapped him?" Veers grinned at his friend. "I don't know if I should believe it, though."

Piett raised an eyebrow. "Believe it." He sighed. "I had no idea the rumor mill was that fast", he added. 

Veers chuckled. "It's not. It will be at least two weeks until everybody on board knows. And I don't want to be in that crewmember's shoes then."

They both laughed when they entered sickbay's reception and emergency room. 

Hanley entered the room at the same time, coming from the Intensive Care Unit.

"He is still unconscious", he said in way of greeting, shooting the officers a disapproving glance. 

"How long till he wakes up?" Piett inquired.

"Difficult to say." Hanley shrugged. "He could regain consciousness any moment and have nothing more than a headache. Or he could still slip into a coma. It all depends on how long he was without oxygen."

"You're talking brain damage, right?" Veers asked quietly. The idea of someone as indestructible and fiercely independent as Vader turned into human vegetable seemed vaguely obscene to him. 

Hanley nodded. "It is still a possibility. A remote one, gentlemen. His reflexes are good, and that is an excellent sign. However, it's impossible to check his higher brain functions before he is fully conscious."

"Any gut feeling, Doctor?"

Hanley snorted. "My gut feeling, as you so aptly put it, tells me he's going to be fine. But I would prefer to back it up with a scan. Now, you will excuse me while I see to my patient. I'll keep you posted." He turned on his heel and marched back into the ICU.

"Did he just throw us out, or what?" Veers asked with a look at Piett. The admiral shrugged. 

"I never said he was nice. He's good at his job, though," was his reply.

* * *

Some time later, Hanley was immersed in the scan report.

"That's impossible", he muttered under his breath. "There must be a reason for his breathing impairment and his cardiac problem. I just know there is." He was loath to turn to any of the other medical officers on board for their input, if only for the sake of his patient's peace of mind. A man who kept his own medidroid would not appreciate being turned into a study subject for a whole group of physicians. Thus, Hanley had restricted access to Vader to himself and the one 2-1B unit that assisted him.

Clearing the report from his computer screen, he rubbed tired eyes and leaned back in his chair. He had spent the last three hours turning Darth Vader inside out, trying to determine what exactly was wrong with the man. His lungs and heart were definitely not the problem; Vader's lung capacity matched that of an athlete, and his heart was one of the strongest Hanley had ever seen in his career. Both were adequate for a man of Vader's size and muscle development. Obviously, the Sith kept in excellent shape. Hanley silently wondered if there was a single man on board the Executor who could take Vader up when it came to sheer physical fitness. Oh, there were bound to be a few men stronger than Vader, but these were slower and less well coordinated. Others might be faster, more agile, but lacked Vader's height and strength. 

No, Vader's health problems were not caused by his heart and lungs, at least not directly. It was obvious to Hanley that the respiratory muscles were paralyzed, and thus Vader simply could not draw enough air into his lungs to survive for long without external help. The muscles themselves, including the diaphragm, were as well developed as could be expected from someone who worked out on a regular basis. In addition, his heartbeat dropped to a mere thirty beats per minute without external stimulus. The life support unit Vader wore as an integral part of his suit acted more like a pacemaker for both heart and lungs, supplying them with the impulse necessary to work according to his body's need for oxygen.

No, it had to be his nervous system. But where? Hanley got nice, strong impulses from the medulla oblongata, the brain stem, on the scan, and the broken neck Vader had suffered some time in his youth had been expertly repaired. The crushed vertebrae had been replaced with implants, and his nerve roots with cybernetic ones. Without them, Lord Darth Vader would be a helpless quadraplegic, paralyzed from the neck down and dependent on others to feed him, turn him over in bed, even clean him up. 

Or had they? Hanley sat up in his chair, ramrod straight. What, he mused, if only part of the nerve roots had been repaired? What if the ones responsible for respiratory and cardiac function had been left out, considered too damaged even for that kind of repair at the time? He called up the scan again, enhancing the picture until it became too fuzzy to actually see anything. "Damn", he muttered under his breath and got up to stalk into the ICU unit

"2-1B, I need another scan of Lord Vader's neck, highest resolution."

"Yes, Sir", the droid replied and swiftly reset the scanner. "On screen now, Sir." 

Hanley leaned closer to the screen, until he nearly touched it with his nose. "Enhance area Delta 2", he ordered. The 2-1B complied, and the screen changed to a large picture of one cybernetic nerve root snaking its way from the artificial vertebrae down. Hanley studied it, imprinting the tiniest details into his memory when he saw it. The structure that did not belong there.

"Oh gods of my ancestors, have mercy," he breathed. "2-1B, I need a scan of the nerve impulses in the cybernetic nerve root directly above screen area Delta 2, section 1 and below Delta 2, section 3."

"Scanning, Doctor. The pattern appears to be different. How is that possible?" 

"Because somebody put an interfering transmitter in there. Prepare the patient for surgery." 

"But, Sir, is that wise? He appears to be waking up."

Hanley looked down at Vader; the Sithlord's eyelids fluttered, and a low groan escaped the man's throat. 

"I don't care. Frankly, I don't want him to wake up now. Sedate him immediately."

"But, Sir..." the droid protested.

"I said now!" Hanley hissed, and stalked out of the room to change into scrubs.

2-1B injected Vader with a sedative, and the Dark Lord slipped into a drug induced sleep.

* * *

Two hours later, Hanley removed the last of the transmitters attached to Vader's cybernetic nerves and slowly retracted the instruments from the tiny cuts in Vader's neck. Vader was placed face down on the operating table. Hanley had opted for a minimum invasive technique that allowed him to see what he was doing on a large screen, while being less of a strain on the patient at the same time. 

"Okay, 2-1B, take him off the pacemaker now. Let's see if his heart beats without help."

The droid, who had been assisting Hanley, complied immediately. Vader's heart faltered, raced, then settled into a healthy rhythm. 

"Good", Hanley observed. "Very good. Give him a minute, then take him off the respirator." 

2-1B did exactly as ordered. For a moment, Vader's heartbeat picked up again before he drew his first independent breath. But soon he was breathing regularly, without help. His heart beat at a steady 68 beats per minute, perfectly normal. 

"Yes!" Hanley crowed. "We did it! Close him up, and move him back to the ICU. But continue to monitor him. I don't want anything to go wrong with him." 

* * *

On the bridge, Admiral Piett had been pacing for hours now, much to the silent amusement of his closest friend on board, General Maximilian Veers.

"You worry too much, Tomas", he observed. "You're going to wear down the floor if you keep it up, and how are you going to explain that to him?"

Piett stopped, gave Veers a strange look, and threw up his hands in disgust. 

"I give up! I'm going down to sickbay and check for myself now", he announced. "Captain Durreen, you have the bridge." He stalked out at a quick pace, not even waiting for Veers. 

The general shook his head and followed, although he had to run in order to catch up with Piett before he reached the turbo lift.

* * *

Hanley came back into the reception and emergency treatment area just as Veers and Piett entered.

"Gentlemen, I was about to call you", he began. "Surgery went well, and Lord Vader should wake up soon now."

"Surgery?" Piett echoed. "I was not aware of any injuries that made an operation necessary."

"He didn't have any. But he did have this." Hanley threw a small, clear plastic container to Piett; the admiral caught it effortlessly and looked at the tiny specks inside.

"What are these?" he asked.

"You could call them interference transmitters. Lord Vader had his neck broken, years ago, and these little buggers were implanted either along with or shortly after the cybernetic nerves that repaired the damage to his nervous system. They filtered out all but the strongest nerve impulses through the cybernetic system to his heart and lungs, making him dependant on a respirator and pacemaker."

"What?" Piett turned red with anger. "Who would do something like that to a sentient being?"

Veers, standing next to him, simply balled his fists. This was unbelievable, and yet Piett held the proof in his hands. "Do you really want to know?" he asked quietly. "I know only one person powerful enough to do that to Darth Vader." 

Piett gulped. "There's no proof. But if you're right, we're all in deep..."

"... Bantha Poodoo", Veers finished the sentence for him. "He'll be stark raving mad when he finds out."

Hanley looked from Piett to Veers and back again. "Care to enlighten me, gentlemen? And what in the galaxy is Bantha Poodoo?"

"Oh", Veers said lightly, "it's usually translated as Bantha fodder, but it actually means excrement. Now, can we see Lord Vader?"

"Of course. He should be awake by now." Hanley ushered them into the ICU. Vader had been placed back in the diagnostic bed, surrounded by medical monitors. He seemed to be resting comfortably. 

Piett stepped closer to the bed, eager to see that the Sithlord was indeed going to be alright, but at the same time reluctant to interrupt his rest.

"Lord Vader?" he asked quietly.

Vader's eyelids fluttered open, he slowly turned his head towards Piett, and the admiral noticed that the blue eyes did not quite focus. 

"Admiral?" he asked in a slightly raspy voice. "What happened?"

"We were hoping you could tell us. How are you feeling?"

"My head hurts", was the simple reply. Vader frowned, trying again to focus his eyes on Piett. His head felt as if an AT-AT was tap-dancing on it, and he was so damned tired. Somebody touched his shoulder; he turned his head, and saw something blurry close to his eyes. A hand?

"How many fingers am I holding up?" an unknown voice asked.

Oh, the old check for concussion... Vader groaned, decided he did not even want to try before the AT-AT danced somewhere else than on his head, and allowed his eyelids to drop close. They were too heavy anyway. 

"Okay, what day is it?" the voice asked again.

"Depends", Vader mumbled. "How long was I out?" 

The voice chuckled. "Good answer. Don't worry, you're going to be alright. Just rest know."

Who's worrying? Vader wanted to say, but found that he was too tired to do so. All he wanted right now was rest his eyes, and get that damned AT- AT off his skull. A moment later, he was sound asleep.

Hanley straightened up. "He's going to be right as rain in a few days", he said, still chuckling. "His sense of humor definitely has not been impaired."

"I disagree, Doctor. Lord Vader never displayed a sense of humor before", Veers commented dryly. 

"Except when he was going to kill someone", Piett added. "This is not normal for him."

Dr. Hanley raised his eyebrows. "Chalk it up to his weakened and sedated state, then. He was quite coherent for someone just waking up from anesthesia. Now, gentlemen, let him get some rest. You can see him again tomorrow, if you wish." He ushered the two officers out again.

"Is it just me", Veers asked Piett in the corridor, "or have we just been thrown out again?"

* * *

To be continued  


   [1]: http://www.theforce.net



	4. The Truth Is Revealed

**Force of Destiny**

** Summary: **   
An accident reveals an old deception, and Darth Vader must make a decision that will change not only his life. 

* * *

** Force of Destiny - Chapter 3 **

Piett ran his hands over his face. Suddenly, he felt very tired. "Does it matter?" he asked. "Lord Vader will go berserk when he hears about those implants." 

"He certainly will, my friend", Veers nodded gravely, "he certainly will." He patted Piett's shoulder. "It's been a long day. Don't know about you, but I could use a stiff drink." 

"Not yet. I have to give the techs the go-ahead to take the TIE apart first. Garin wanted to start right away", Piett replied and started walking towards the hangar. Veers frowned and followed him. 

"Do you think that's wise? I know he saved Lord Vader, but his team also prepared the fighter." 

Piett smiled thinly. "That's why I read their conduct reports and had a scanning crew check out the fighter first. I did more than just pace on the bridge, my friend." 

Veers chuckled. "You're always a step ahead, Tomas. Been taking lessons from Lord Vader again, have you?" 

The other man shrugged. "Well, you have to when you work for him. He does not take incompetence lightly." He sighed. "Anyway, the scan came up negative. No sign of explosives." 

"That's still no proof that the ship hasn't been tampered with." 

"No, it's not. But the conduct reports look alright, too. A few minor points, but nothing serious. Not too clean, either." 

"A perfect report would be a bad thing?" Veers raised his eyebrows. 

"Naturally", Piett nodded. "Only a man who has too much to lose would take care to keep his record perfect. A spy, perhaps, or a rebel agent." He waved his hand dismissively. 

Veers shook his head, slightly amused. "If you ever decide to leave the fleet, you could start a career with imperial intelligence." 

His friend grimaced. "Never. I hate this backstabbing spy business." 

"Then why do you know so much about it?" Veers asked. 

"I guess it falls under the header of 'know thine enemy'", Piett replied. 

Veers' curiosity was piqued. "Tell me, then", he inquired, "how many rebel spies do we have on board?" 

Piett laughed at that. "Surprisingly, none. But we do have a number of II agents." 

Veers stopped dead in his tracks. "You're kidding! Our own people are spying on us?" 

Piett snorted. "I would hardly call them our own people. And yes, we are under constant surveillance. After all, this ship is the largest ever built, and until the new Death Star is operational, it is also the most powerful weapon the Empire has." 

"But that means..." Veers shook his head. 

"... that the Emperor will know about the accident soon, if he doesn't already", Piett finished the sentence for him. He turned to his friend and regarded him with a grim look in his eyes. "Trust no-one, my friend. We're heading for dangerous times, and your prowess on the battle field will not help you in this fight." 

* * *

In the main hangar, Staff Sergeant Torb Garin and his team of four snapped to attention as the doors opened and the two highest ranking officers entered. 

"Sir!" he bellowed. 

Piett waved his hand. "At ease", he ordered. The team assumed the formal at-ease posture. 

"Gentlemen, I want you to take this ship apart until you've found the reason for the failure. Use any means you deem necessary. You will report to me personally. Furthermore, you are free from all other duties until further notice." 

"Yes, Sir! Thank you, Sir!" 

"Well, what are you waiting for? Get to it!" 

"Sir, if I may", Garin began, clearly insecure. 

"Yes, Sergeant?" Piett regarded him curiously. What now? 

"I... uh... I mean, my men and I were wondering about Lord Vader. Is he going to be alright, Sir?" 

Piett's expression softened somewhat. "Thanks to you and your team, Sergeant, he will be. And he will be most displeased if you don't have some answers for him by the time he is up and about again", he said. 

A broad grin appeared on Garin's face. "Sir, yes, Sir!" he bellowed at the top of his lungs. "You heard the admiral, boys, let's get this show on the road! Zev, you take the flight recorder. I want the data in that thing secured and I want it now! Jay, Kenny, you start on her solar panels. Avery, you'll assist me." 

The team scrambled to follow their sergeants' orders. 

* * *

Piett was up earlier than usual the next morning. He had the distinct feeling that Dr. Hanley would not wait for his and Veers' presence before breaking the truth to Lord Vader, and Force only knew how Vader would react. No, that wasn't true; Piett and Veers both had a pretty good idea of what Lord Vader's reaction would be. The term 'blind rage' came to mind, as well as 'mindless violence'. Not that he could blame the man; he had every right to be upset. For the thousandth time Piett wondered why he wanted to be present at all. Of course, he did not want to lose his CMO. Hanley certainly had no idea what Vader was capable of. 

Sighing, Piett palmed open the door to Veers' quarters. The general was just pulling his boots on, uniform impeccable as ever, hair still slightly damp from the shower. 

"You're up early, Tomas", Veers greeted him. "Thought I would have to wake you." 

"Not everybody is such an early bird like you, Max. But I can manage getting up in the middle of the night if I have to", Piett grumbled. "Come on, I don't want to be late." 

* * *

Darth Vader gradually came back to awareness. First he felt the throbbing pain in the left side of his skull, then the aches and pains all over his upper body. He could hear the soft clicks, beeps and whirrs of medical equipment nearby. Strange that he had never noticed all those sounds in his quarters before. He slowly opened his eyes. These were not his quarters at all. 

I must be in sickbay, he mused. How under the stars did I end up here? 

Pushing himself up on his elbows, he looked around. Getting out of bed was out of the question, since he was hooked up to a stationery life support system. A small oxygen mask covered the lower part of his face, and what seemed like a myriad of wires ran from his body to various monitors surrounding the bed. But there had to be a medic or at least a droid around! 

"You're awake!" 

Vader turned his head in the direction of the strange voice. "Obviously", he stated. "And who are you?" 

"Forgive me. I am Dr. Parker Hanley, Chief Medical Officer", Hanley introduced himself. "And how are we feeling this morning, Lord Vader?" 

Vader rolled his eyes. Why did medical personnel always include themselves when inquiring about a patient's well being? 

"I feel fine, except for a headache", he finally said. "And you are extremely pleased with yourself, although you did not get much sleep last night and your left knee is giving you trouble", he added in a dry voice. 

"What?" Hanley was dumbfounded. How could Vader know? He shook his head. "Never mind. I'd like to run a few tests, if you don't mind." 

"In fact, I do." Vader sat up in bed, ignoring the wave of dizziness that hit him. He must not show any weakness, or this quack might decide to keep him in sickbay for Force only knew how long, a thought Vader did not relish. "I would rather return to my quarters. Where is my suit?" 

"I'm afraid we had to cut it off you." Hanley adjusted the head of the bed and fluffed up the pillows so Vader could lean back comfortably. 

"Understandable", Vader nodded. "I have spares in my quarters. Have one brought here." 

"After I've examined you, Mylord. And only if I'm satisfied with the results." 

Vader glared at him; how dare he? "You are trying my patience, Doctor", he rumbled. 

"Really?" Hanley asked lightly and held up two fingers. "How many fingers?" 

"Two. Are you satisfied now?" 

"Very good. What is the last thing you remember?" 

"I... " Vader was taken aback by the question. Force be damned, what had happened? His head was still pounding, making it hard to concentrate. "I was on the bridge", he recounted, "Piett reported to me that the new TIE Avengers had arrived. I went to the hangar and took one out for a test flight. She flies like a dream. And then... then... I don't know. Something must have happened, but I can't remember." He whispered the last words. His inability to recall the event that brought him to sickbay bothered him more than he wanted to admit. 

"It's alright", Hanley said, patting his shoulder. Vader gave him a warning glance that was completely lost on Hanley. "There was an accident. One of the engines exploded. You were lucky, though. You only suffered a mild concussion and a number of bruises. Your recollection of the last minutes before the explosion may return later, or never. But I would not worry about it too much." 

"So, can I go?" Vader inquired. After I have my mobile life support back, he added silently. 

"I would prefer if you stayed and rested for a while. A day or two, perhaps. But I can certainly take you off the monitors now", Hanley answered and reached for the oxygen mask. Vader nearly bolted from the bed. 

"What do you think you're doing?" the Dark Lord shouted, grabbing Hanley's arm to stop him when another wave of dizziness hit him. He groaned, shaking his head to clear his suddenly fuzzy brain. 

"Easy, Lord Vader. Told you you'd better stay and rest." Gently, but firmly Hanley pressed him back into the pillows. 

"You don't understand. I can't..." Vader began, but Hanley interrupted him: "Yes, you can." 

He calmly removed the oxygen mask and switched off the monitors while the Sithlord was still too shaken to resist. 

"No... you don't understand", Vader moaned, "I cannot brea..." He stopped short as realization hit him. Inhaling deeply, he put a hand on his chest. "I can breathe", he whispered. "I can't believe it! How is that possible?" 

The emotions that ran through him clearly showed on his face; joy, happiness, fear that this would not last. 

"Relax", Hanley told him. "I will explain everything to you, but I want you to stay calm. You're still healing." 

Vader nodded, his mind numb from the thousand questions that ran through it simultaneously. 

"My lungs...", he began. 

"...are perfectly alright. Always were, in fact", Hanley interrupted him again. 

"But I was told I would never be able to breathe without a respirator again. That I would be dependent on artificial life support for the rest of my natural life", Darth Vader choked out. 

Hanley seated himself on the edge of the bed, laying a hand on Vader's forearm. The man was clearly in shock from this sudden revelation. Dr. Hanley knew he had to take this slowly, one step at the time. 

"Tell me, did you inhale any noxious fumes at the time you broke your neck?" he asked. 

Vader nodded slowly. "Yes", he said. "I fell into an active volcanic crater. The smoke was highly caustic and burned my lungs." 

"I see. But still, your lungs were not the problem. I only found minimal scarring of the alveoles when I examined you. You didn't inhale enough of the smoke to do much damage, probably due to the broken neck. Certainly not enough to significantly reduce your lung capacity. No, the problem always was in your nervous system." 

Vader frowned. "But that was repaired. I regained full mobility right after surgery." He looked up at Hanley. "And the doctors told me my lungs were burned badly", he added. 

* * *

Veers and Piett opened the door to the ICU just in time to hear Vader say: "And the doctors told me my lungs were burned badly." 

"Lord Vader", Piett greeted his superior with a bow, "I am glad you are feeling better." 

Vader turned his head to face them, slightly irritated at the interruption. "Admiral Piett, General Veers. What are you doing here?" 

"You gave us cause for concern, Mylord", Veers answered smoothly. "You nearly died in that accident yesterday, and it is certainly good to see that you are recovering." 

Vader felt strangely touched by Veers' words. "Thank you, General." He turned his full attention back to Dr. Hanley. "You still owe me an explanation." 

Hanley nodded slowly, not quite sure how he should break the news to his patient. He finally opted for the direct approach; Lord Vader was too intelligent not to figure out the truth eventually, now that he had the first parts of the puzzle. But he was also not a very patient man. Better to get it over with now. 

"When I examined you yesterday, I was just as puzzled by your inability to breathe as you are now. I took a closer look at the cybernetic replacements of your vertebrae and nerve roots, and found these." He reached into his pocket and produced a small plastic container which he pressed into Vader's hand. The Dark Lord held it up and looked at it, noticing the tiny electronic devices inside. 

"What are these?" he inquired. "They look like transmitters, but I've never seen that particular design before." 

"They are transmitters, Mylord. Interference transmitters which blocked the nerve impulses to your heart and lungs. I surgically removed them. You have been breathing on your own ever since." 

Vader froze. This could not be possible. This would mean... no, no, he could not believe that! 

"No...", he whispered, his voice rough. His hands started to shake. "That's impossible. You must be wrong. There must be another explanation." He was grasping for straws, he knew it, but the alternative would make more than half his life meaningless. And yet, it was true. He knew it. 

"Lord Vader, it is the truth. Somebody deliberately implanted you with these devices. I don't know why, but it is the truth." 

"I know. Somehow, I've always known." 

Vader drew a deep, shuddering breath, trying desperately to keep control of his emotions. 

"I would like to be alone for a while", he asked, still in that rough whisper. He didn't dare speak louder for fear he would scream. 

Hanley lightly touched his shoulder, and the Dark Lord flinched. 

"If you would like a sedative", he offered. 

"No. Just leave me alone", Vader choked out. He felt his grip on sanity slip with every passing second. 

In this moment, Piett noticed that a tray with instruments on a shelf nearby started to rattle. He pointed it out to Veers, who nodded. 

"Come, Doctor. We should really leave Lord Vader alone now", Veers said calmly. 

Hanley looked at him as if he had lost his mind. "I don't think so", he replied. Another tray started to rattle, and one of the monitors surrounding the bed wobbled on its stand. 

"Frankly, I don't care what you think, Doctor", Piett shot back. "Get out now!" Grabbing the protesting medic by the arm, he hurled him out of the room with Veers' help. No sooner had the door closed behind the three men when the first scream rent the air. It did not sound like anything a human throat could produce, more like the howling of an enraged animal. Something heavy hit the door, leaving a dent in its metal surface. 

"What is happening in there?" Hanley shouted. "What is he doing to my sickbay?" 

He tried to go back in, but Piett and Veers held him back by both his arms. 

"Don't!" Piett commanded. "You wouldn't survive it." 

"What are you talking about?" Hanley turned face to Piett, enraged that the man tried to stop him from doing his job. "He needs help, dammit!" 

"Right now, you wouldn't be able to reach him before he killed you, Doctor. How do you think that would help him?" Piett shouted back over the noise of more equipment flying around and hitting the walls. 

* * *

On the Rebel Alliance Cruiser Freedom, Luke Skywalker woke up screaming. "Father!" he cried. He was breathing heavily, realizing that he was in his own cabin, not the sickbay of an Imperial Star Destroyer. Calming himself with difficulty, he tried to recall the details of his vision. He did not even question that is was more than a nightmare; Luke Skywalker knew how nightmares felt, and this had all the markings of a Force vision. Darth Vader... his father!... had been there, in a room that looked like a sickbay. He was in pain, not so much physical as mental and emotional pain. He was confused, and angry, and suffering. He had called out to Luke in agony, and Luke made a decision. 

* * *

It took more than ten minutes for the noise from the ICU to subside and finally die down completely. The three men waited in silence for another two minutes before Veers spoke up: "You think we can risk it now?" 

"Sounds like he's exhausted himself for the moment", Piett replied. "I say we go in." He palmed open the door; it got stuck halfway due to the dent in its surface, but the men were able to squeeze through. They were greeted by eerie silence and total destruction. Not a single unit had remained in its place. The bed had been turned on its side. The floor was littered with debris and shards of broken glass. Even parts of the ceiling had been ripped down, revealing cables and pipes, some of which where broken as well. 

"What happened here?" Hanley whispered. He could hardly believe his eyes. 

Veers whistled. "Now that's what I call a temper tantrum", he observed. 

Piett gave him a dirty look. "This is not funny", he stated. 

"Right. Let's go and look for Lord Vader. He must be somewhere in here." 

They found him easily enough, behind the overturned bed. Vader was sitting on the floor, knees drawn up to his chest, arms wrapped around his knees, staring straight ahead and shivering violently. Veers dropped to one knee beside him, gently taking his face in both hands. 

"Lord Vader, can you hear me?" he asked quietly. Darth Vader raised his head slowly and gazed at Veers out of blue eyes filled with pain. 

"I'm cold", he managed through chattering teeth. His voice was hoarse. 

"You're in shock. Do you think you can stand up if I help you?" 

Vader nodded. Again, his movements were painfully slow. Veers took his arm and pulled him to his feet; the Dark Lord leaned heavily against him, and the General supported most of Vader's weight. Vader looked around him and blinked, for the first time realizing the scene of destruction. 

"Did I do that?" he asked he bewilderment. Clearly, he had no recollection of his own actions. 

"Don't worry about that. Let's get you someplace warmer." Veers steered the stumbling Lord Vader towards the door, carefully avoiding the broken glass on the floor, when Piett appeared at their side with a blanket which he wrapped around Vader's shoulders. 

Dr. Hanley was still somewhere in the ICU, muttering and shaking his head, when the two officers settled Vader on one of the beds in the emergency room. 

"I'll try to find a 2-1B unit", Piett announced. "Hanley is not going to be any help now." He left, and soon returned with the same droid that had been assisting Hanley earlier. The droid quickly examined Vader. 

"The patient is in shock. I will administer a sedative", the machine said, producing a syringe. 

"No", Vader croaked. He was still shivering, although covered with several blankets. "No drugs." 

Despite its skull-like metal face, the droid managed to look concerned. "Sir, you have been severely traumatized. You should allow me to sedate you", it urged. 

"No!" Vader insisted stubbornly. "I will not be drugged!" 

"As you wish." 

"How does some hot tea sound, then?" Piett asked softly. Vader looked up at him, surprised by the concern in the admiral's voice. 

He nodded. At least he could trust Piett not to drug him into unconsciousness. Veers helped him into a sitting position, and Piett pressed a styrofoam cup into Vader's shaking hands. He had to help Vader raise it to his lips, though. 

The tea was hot, almost burning his tongue, and extremely sweet. The Dark Lord almost choked on the first sip, but managed to drink the tea without spilling any. The hot liquid helped to banish the chill from his bones and calm his rattled nerves. He felt his eyelids grow heavy again. Vader tried hard to stay awake, but his violent outburst took his toll on him, and he fell asleep with his head on Veers' shoulder. 

Veers gently lowered the sleeping Sith onto the pillows. 

"Out like a light", he whispered. "What did you put in that tea?" 

"Sugar", Piett replied dryly. "Lots of sugar." 

"And?" 

With a lopsided grin, Piett produced the empty halves of two small blue capsules from his pocket. 

"Remember how I had trouble sleeping a couple months ago, right after Lord Vader promoted me? I knew enough sugar would mask the taste of these." 

* * *

To be continued 


	5. Team Work

**Force of Destiny**

** Summary: **   
An accident reveals an old deception, and Darth Vader must make a decision that will change not only his life. 

* * *

** Force of Destiny - Chapter 4 **

Two days later, Garin was stumped. On the first day, he and his team had taken the Avenger apart to its most basic components. It quickly became clear that the explosion had been caused by a failure of the cooling system, combined with a fault in an internal sensor that should have shut off the overheating engines. The resulting explosion of engine No. 2 completely destroyed its coolant pump. The pump of engine No. 3, however, also showed signs of burning out that were not a result of the explosion. But what caused the pumps to burn out in the first place? They had cross-checked every part of the craft with the technical specifications given to them by the manufacturer, Siena Fleet Systems, and still they came up empty. Everything was as it should be according to the manuals, but still the pumps had failed. 

The second day, they had taken samples of all materials the fighter consisted of, from its solar panels to the hull, from tubing to wires, and even from the lubricants that kept its moving parts from freezing into place in the absolute zero of space. They painstakingly bagged and labeled each sample and sent it to the Executor's on-board laboratory for further testing. 

Now, on the third morning after the accident, Garin walked around the remains of the craft, alternately rubbing his chin and running his fingers through his hair. He knew he had missed something, but what? To make matters worse, a communication from Siena Fleet Systems claimed that only a pilots' error could have been the cause of the accident. No-one who had ever flown with Darth Vader, or serviced a craft Vader used, believed this claim. It was simply too ridiculous to even consider. 

Tugging at his hair again, Garin made his decision. He picked up the No. 3 engine's coolant pump and tucked it under his arm. With an air of exasperation, he addressed his team: "I'll be in sickbay. Maybe Lord Vader can solve this riddle." 

"Where shall we send your stuff?" Zev called after his retreating back. 

* * *

After what Veers had jokingly called his 'temper tantrum', Darth Vader had plunged into the deepest, blackest depression. He barely touched any food offered to him by the medidroid. He refused any medication, although his sleep was disturbed by nightmares almost as soon as he closed his eyes. Neither did he demand to be released from sickbay anymore. He just lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Nothing seemed to spark the Sithlord's interest. He barely reacted when spoken to. Not even Hanley's persistent poking and prodding seemed to matter to him. When asked something, he answered in monosyllables, if at all. It was as if the fire in him had gone out. 

Torb Garin did not have to search long to find Lord Vader. Although the Executor's sickbay was of adequate size for the ship's quarter million crew, it had only a few private rooms, only one of which was currently in use. 

Garin entered the small room, trying to make as little noise as possible. He had no wish to disturb Lord Vader should the Sithlord be asleep; after all, he valued his life and his ability to breathe. But the man in the bed, although he seemed awake, did not acknowledge his presence. He simply continued to stare unseeingly at the ceiling. Garin stepped closer. Lord Vader looked terrible. A large purple scar ran over his left cheek, another was on his scalp. Both stood out clearly against his deathly pale skin. He obviously had not shaved since the accident; a three-day beard covered the lower half of his face, and the stubby growth of new hair his scalp where it was not scarred. The bruise on his left temple had faded to a greenish yellow. But worst were his eyes. They were blue, and completely void of any emotion. Only the dark circles under them spoke of the inner demons Vader was battling. 

Garin realized he was staring and cleared his throat. "Mylord, I am Sergeant Garin", he began. "I have come to report my findings on the explosion in the TIE Avenger." He shifted nervously. "We - my team and I - have determined that the cause is a failure in the coolant system. We have narrowed it down to the coolant pump itself, but were unable to find the fault. According to the manuals, the pump should not fail, but it has." He paused, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. Vader still did not even look at him. Garin wondered if the man had heard a single word of what he had said so far. Daringly, he held the pump into Vader's field of vision, and proceeded to explain its workings in detail. He nearly dropped the pump when, after a few minutes of detailed technical explanations, Darth Vader suddenly blinked and focused his eyes on him. 

"I know how that thing works, Sergeant. I designed the Avenger", the Dark Lord stated in a rough, tired voice. "What do you want from me?" 

"Mylord!" Garin exclaimed, shocked by the sudden change. "I... I was wondering if you remembered something of the accident that might help us determine the cause." 

"I see." Vader closed his eyes. "I cannot recall the explosion, nor the last minutes preceding it." 

"I understand, Mylord. Maybe your expertise as the designer... " 

"Leave me alone", Vader demanded, cutting Garin off in mid sentence. 

"Mylord", Garin continued, "Siena Fleet Systems claim the explosion was caused by a pilots' error. I can't believe that. It's impossible." 

Vader glared at him. "I just told you I can't remember", he snarled. 

Garin held Vader's gaze; he would not, could not back down now. "It has to be a design flaw", he said flatly, putting the pump on the nightstand. 

Vader's eyes narrowed. "Are you suggesting I made an error there?" he asked in a cold tone. 

"No. I'm trying to find the cause, not place the guilt", Garin shot back. 

"Give me the pump", Vader snapped, sitting up in bed so abruptly that the room started to spin madly before his eyes. 

"Sir, are you alright?" Garin's voice seemed to come from a distance. Vader shook his head, blinking rapidly to clear his vision. 

"Just got up to fast. I have been in bed too long", Vader grated out between clenched teeth. Taking the coolant pump from Garin's hands, he turned it over, looked at it, and finally shook his head. "It's burned out alright. This should not have happened", he mused. "I must see the rest of the craft." Throwing back the covers and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he stood. 

"Like this?" Garin exclaimed, horrified. 

"What?" Vader looked at Garin, caught his expression, than looked down at himself, realizing for the first time that he was wearing nothing but a flimsy hospital shirt. The kind that was open in the back, allowing it to be changed by the medical staff without turning the patient over. Unfortunately, it also allowed for a rather detailed rear view of the patient. 

"Oh", Vader remarked. "Of course, this won't do." He looked around. The room did not even have a closet, only the bed, nightstand, a comm unit, and a fresher unit; then, he remembered Hanley telling him they had to cut his suit off him. 

"Find me something to wear, Sergeant", he ordered. Grasping behind himself, he pulled the thin fabric together to at least keep a bit of dignity and stalked towards the fresher unit. 

"Uh.. how?" Garin called after him. 

Vader turned around. Did he have to explain everything? The man was really trying his patience! "Call quartermaster's and have them send something. A uniform, coveralls, I don't care. And don't forget the boots!" 

Walking into the fresher unit, Vader pulled the door closed and shed the offending garment in one fluid motion. He dropped the shirt and stepped in front of the sink; the mirrored cabinet above it threw back his reflection. 

"Ugh", Vader exclaimed, rearing back as he saw himself in a mirror for the first time in years. He really looked a sight. 'Now I even scare myself', he mused, chuckling quietly to himself. 'And to think that some believe my mask is supposed to frighten people...' Leaning closer to his reflection, he said: "You look like death warmed over, old boy. Well, let's see what we can do about this." Scratching the stubble on his chin, he decided to take a shower first. 

The hot water loosened up his stiff muscles; Vader luxuriated in the feeling and allowed the water to pour over his body for a few minutes before reaching for the soap. Having spent the early years of his childhood as a slave on the desert world of Tattooine, a shower still held a special feel for Darth Vader, although he had lived most of his later years in space and on planets where water was not a rare commodity. On Tattooine, only the rich could afford a regular bath or a shower. For the poor and the slaves, it was dry sand or a bowl of soapy water at best. 

Having finished his shower, Vader wrapped a towel around his waist and stepped in front of the mirror again. Already his appearance was much better. His skin was flushed pink by the hot water. Of course, there was nothing he could do about his scars, but at least he did not look like something that should have been buried days ago anymore. He was also feeling much better. Trying to decide whether he should shave only his beard or the hair growing on his head as well - having to comb or brush with the scars he had was a nuisance, and painful too - he opened the cabinet in search for something to shave with. It was empty except for a toothbrush and toothpaste, a small bottle of shaving cream, and a tiny disposable razor. Vader picked the razor up with this thumb and forefinger and brought it close to his eyes for inspection. "Oh, dear", he sighed. There was no way he would be able to shave his head as well with this thing. In fact, he would be lucky if it wasn't dull before he was done scratching the stubble from his chin. With a deep sigh and a shake of his head, he settled to the task. 

* * *

When Vader finally exited the fresher, clean shaven and with the towel still wrapped around his waist, Garin was still talking on the comm. 

"No, this is not a joke", Vader heard him say in an exasperated tone. "For the hundredth time, just send some clothes here for Lord Vader!" 

"I told you before, I'm not falling for this", the man on the other end of the line answered. "And I'm warning you for the last time. One more prank call, and I will report you, Sergeant." He was about to cut the connection when Vader walked in front of the comm unit. 

"Is there a problem?" he asked. 

"And who would you be?" the other sneered. "Oh, wait, let me guess. Of course you are Lord Vader, right?" 

"In fact, I am", Vader told him. "And I would appreciate a more civil tone from you, Lieutenant", he added coolly. 

"Listen, buddy, I've about had it with you and your friend", the lieutenant raved. "I have some work to do here, so you either stop bothering me or you're gonna find yourself in the brig in no time! Lord Vader will certainly not appreciate you impersonating him. Do I make myself clear?" 

Vader felt his jaw drop. "Buddy?" he echoed. This moron had actually called him buddy? And threatened him with the brig? He blinked, perplexed, when he suddenly found himself staring at a blank screen. The lieutenant had cut the connection. 

Belatedly, it dawned to Vader that the man simply had not recognized him without the dreaded black mask. But to assume he was an impostor? He sure hoped this was not a common occurrence on board the Executor! He hit the redial button. After a few seconds, the lieutenant was on the screen again. 

"You!" the man started angrily. "I just told you..." 

"I am Darth Vader", Vader interrupted him, reaching out with the force to squeeze the man's windpipe just enough to get his attention. The lieutenant started to cough as his throat constricted. "Now get someone to sickbay with some clothes for me or get me someone on the line with some brains. Do you understand?" 

The lieutenant turned an ugly shade of green. "M... Mylord", he stammered. Vader released him, and the man sucked the air in as if he was afraid it was his last breath. It might very well be, after all. 

"I... I... I'm sorry, Mylord. I didn't... I mean... I... I need..." He gulped and continued in a scared whisper: "I need a requisition form, Mylord. Uh.. and your size, please?" 

"Requisition form?" Vader echoed. "Did I hear you correctly?" 

The lieutenant' face turned from green to a bright red. "It's... regulations, Mylord", he squeaked. 

"You don't expect me to come down to you, wearing nothing but a towel and a smile, to fill out a form, do you, Lieutenant?" Vader asked him sweetly. From the corner of his eye, he could see Garin clamp his hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter. 

Someone shoved the Lieutenant out of the picture to take his place. "Excuse me, Mylord, I believe the Lieutenant is not feeling too well", the newcomer, a young ensign, said with a forced smile. "If you could give me your size, I'll bring something right away." 

Vader told him, and the ensign shook his head. "I'm afraid we only have mechanic's coveralls and trooper uniforms in that size. There aren't many men on board with your built, Sir." 

"Never mind, mechanic's coveralls are fine." Vader waved his hand dismissively. 

"I'm already on my way, Sir." The ensign cut the connection. 

Vader sat down on the bed. "Bureaucrats", he muttered, making the word sound like an obscenity. 

* * *

The ensign arrived only a few minutes later, carrying a box and a datapad. Vader was already pacing the room impatiently. 

"What kept you?" he snarled. 

"Had to call the meds first, Mylord", the ensign replied, handing him the box. "The lieutenant didn't look too hot, Sir." 

"Understandable", Vader nodded. He checked the contents of the box. Boots, shorts, undershirt, socks, coveralls, all in his size. 

"If you'd just sign here, Sir", the ensign said, sticking the datapad under his nose. Vader scribbled his name on the pad and headed for the fresher, box tucked under his arm. 

"Wait, Sir", he ensign called, producing a measuring tape. On Vader's frown, he quickly added: "I'll just take your measurements, won't be a minute, and we'll have some proper uniforms for you by tonight." 

Vader almost smiled at that. Finally someone was using the brains they were born with! 

"Of course, ensign." He nodded, and allowed the ensign to take his measurements. As promised, it took less than a minute, and Vader could finally get dressed. 

When Vader emerged from the fresher once more, dressed in crisp gray mechanics' coveralls and shiny new boots, the ensign had already left. 

Motioning to Garin to accompany him, he left sickbay and headed for the main hangar. The sergeant almost had to run to keep up with Vader's long strides. 

* * *

Vader slowed his steps when he entered the hangar and surveyed the room. Garin was still close on his heels, if a little out of breath. The parts of the Avenger covered a fair amount of room. It looked like they were strewn haphazardly across the floor, but to Vader's experienced eye they were neatly ordered by the place they had occupied in the small ship. Somebody had set up a table and several folding chairs nearby; the table was cluttered with manuals, thermos cans and empty cups. Several of the chairs were occupied by the men of Garin's team; upon Vader's entry, they scrambled to their feet. 

Vader walked slowly around the remains of the craft, picking up a part here and there to look at it more closely, and putting it down again. After a full circuit, he addressed Garin: "You have taken samples for the lab?" 

"Yes, Mylord. We're still waiting for some of the results, but I do not expect any breakthroughs from those", Garin replied. 

The Dark Lord crossed his arms in front of his chest. "You did a thorough job, Sergeant", he conceded. "We will learn little more from this wreck unless we take apart an intact fighter for comparison." Turning on his heel, he pointed at the next best Avenger. "We'll take this one." 

Garin clapped his hands together. "Right, boys, you heard Lord Vader. Let's get to work! And don't forget to label the samples." 

The team swarmed over the Avenger, picking up tools on the way, and began to disassemble the second fighter. Much to everybody's surprise, Lord Vader himself picked up a tool as well and started to work alongside the men. 

* * *

Three hours later, a very irritated Darth Vader called a halt to the work. 

"What is the matter with you?" he rumbled when the men had gathered. "I've never seen a team work together so badly. A bunch of green cadets could do better." 

"I'm afraid it's you, Mylord", one of the men spoke up. 

"What? What do you mean?" Vader barked. 

"We spend more energy pussy-footing around you than we actually use for work, Sir", the man continued. "Sorry, Mylord." 

Vader stared at him. Of course! How stupid. Being who he was, he had a reputation for a lot of things. Being a team player was not one of them. Instead of helping, he was actually hindering the team with his mere presence. The question was, how could he rectify this situation? He did not wish to leave. In fact, he found he enjoyed working on an actual piece of machinery once more. There had been little opportunity for that in the past years. 

"You may be right, corporal", he acknowledged. "What is your name?" 

"Uh.. Sorensen, Mylord", the corporal answered. 

Vader shook his head. "No. Your given name. You do use first names among yourselves, do you not?" Time to change perceptions a little. 

"Why... yes, Sir. And it's Zev, Sir." 

"Very good, Zev. And you?" Vader turned to the youngest member of the team, a short, skinny redhead. 

"Kenny, Mylord", the youngster whispered shyly. 

"Kenny", Vader repeated. The others also introduced themselves with their first names, having caught on. 

"Good", Vader finally said. "I shall call you by your first names, and you shall treat me like any other member of the team. Try to forget who I am, at least for the moment." 

"Well, Sir", Zev began, scratching his head, "we can't really... I mean... I don't think we can call you Darth, Sir." 

Vader froze. He realized he had almost gone about this the wrong way, or at least only half way. If he truly wanted to be regarded as just another team member, it would not help to have the men still call him by his title, or the name they had grown to fear. What a strange notion, anyway. For a moment, he wondered if he had truly gone mad now. But he quickly pushed that thought aside. It was time for some changes. He was not isolated by his mask anymore, he did not need to isolate himself now. 

"No", he said slowly. "That won't do. Call me Anakin." 

"Anakin." Zev nodded and smiled. "That's a pretty long name." 

"Look who's talking", Jay chimed in, "Zevulon Iantine Sorensen III." 

The others snickered, and even Vader' lips twitched. Then, the Dark Lord's eyes widened as he recognized the name. He remembered the scandal that had so upset the upper crust of Coruscant society a few years back. "Zev Sorensen? As in Sorensen Enterprises?" he queried. 

Zev blushed. "I... um... I don't want this to be public knowledge", he entreated. 

"I understand. Your little secret is safe with me", Vader nodded. Indeed, being the heir to a multi-billion company could make things difficult for Zev. At least, Vader now understood how Zev was able to see the problem. 'He must have gone through the same at first', he mused. 

"Alright, enough chatting, let's get back to work", Torb announced, making shooing gestures at them. 

This time, Vader found himself working together with Zev under the Avenger's belly. "Tell me, Zev", he said, reaching for a tool, "why did you run off to join the fleet? 

"I didn't, really." 

"Oh? Somehow, this is hard to believe, after the scandal you caused." 

Zev smiled. "I guess I just wanted to have a normal life for a while before I took my place as heir. Grandmother agreed; she said it would give me a better perspective." 

"A wise woman, your grandmother. Why not the academy?" Vader asked. 

"Bah. In the academy, I still would have been Zevulon Iantine Sorensen III, pampered little billionaires' kid. This way, I'm simply Zev. Just another guy. Nothing special about me." 

"I know what you mean." They continued to work in companionable silence. 

* * *

To be continued. 


	6. Dinner with Lord Vader

**Force of Destiny**

** Summary: **   
An accident reveals an old deception, and Darth Vader must make a decision that will change not only his life. 

* * *

Force of Destiny - Chapter 5 

Luke Skywalker swung his newly constructed lightsaber in a wide arc, deflecting another bolt from the remote. Having run its program, the remote settled on the floor and shut itself off. 

Luke regarded the brilliant green blade for a moment before he switched it off with a satisfied nod and hooked the hilt to his belt. His new saber handled even better then the old one, his father's - Vader's? - which had been lost at Bespin. This was Luke's weapon, in the true sense of the word. He had designed and constructed it, following ancient Jedi tradition, and such it was a reflection of his own being. In a fight, it would be like a natural extension of his arm. 

Luke summoned the remote to him with the Force to put it away when the door to the training room swished open to admit Leia Organa. 

"Luke, I've been looking for you. Lando and Chewie have prepared the Falcon. We'll be leaving for Tattooine in an hour", she said. 

Unsure of what to say, Luke smiled at her. "Leia", he greeted her. 

"What is it, Luke?" 

He walked closer to her, taking her small hand into his own. Ever since his vision a few nights ago, he had felt uneasy. He knew he must address what the Force was showing him, yet he did not want to abandon Han and hurt Leia's feelings. 

"There is something I need to talk to you about", he began. "I will not be coming with you." 

"What?" Leia was appalled. "Luke, why? You cannot just back out now and leave Han to the hutts!" 

"I won't", he said, giving Leia's hand a reassuring squeeze. "I merely need to talk to an old friend first. I'll catch up with you later." 

Leia regarded him with a frown. His duel with Vader on Bespin had changed Luke. Gone was the naive farmboy, replaced by a seasoned warrior. The young man had lost more than his right hand during that fight; he had lost the innocence of his soul. 

"I had a vision, a few nights ago", Luke continued. "I'm not completely certain what it means, but I feel it's important." 

"A vision, Luke? Are you sure it was not just a nightmare?" 

Luke had been having nightmares for weeks after their return from Bespin; he still had them occasionally. 

"I'm certain, Leia." He released her hand to brush a stray lock of hair from her forehead. "I must go to Dagobah and ask Master Yoda about it. Maybe he knows what to make of it." Luke smiled reassuringly at Leia. "I promise to meet you on Tattooine, Princess. I will not fail you, or Han", he said, unconsciously repeating the same words he had tried to allay Yoda's and Ben's fears with when he left Dagobah all those months ago. 

Leia wrapped her arms around herself tightly. "I know", she whispered. She knew she could trust Luke to keep his promise. She trusted him with her life, and the lives of those closest to her. Why, then, did she feel like Luke was going to betray her trust? 

* * *

"Gone? What do you mean, he's gone?" Piett stared unbelieving at Hanley. 

"He left. He's not in his room. Is that simple enough for you, Admiral?" Hanley snapped back. 

Piett bristled at the man's hostility as well as his obvious incompetence; after all, what did it take to lose a two meter tall Sithlord in a room barely three by four meters? Fortunately for Hanley, Veers put a restraining hand on his friend's shoulder. 

"Gentlemen, this bickering is pointless. Lord Vader has left sickbay, but he cannot have left the ship. I suggest we take a look at his room and try to find out where he went", Veers offered calmly. 

Piett pressed his lips into a thin line and gave a single nod of his head. "Lead the way, Doctor", he ordered. Hanley glared at him, but complied. 

The three entered the small room assigned to Lord Vader. Veers gestured to Piett and Hanley to wait at the door while he started looking around. The bed had been slept in, of course. Veers checked the nightstand. It was empty. He slowly turned; not a single personal item spoke of the room's latest inhabitant. Satisfied that he would gain no knowledge here, he moved on to the fresher unit. What he saw made him smile. He picked up the hospital shirt and the still slightly damp towel and threw them to Piett, who caught them and looked at them, slightly puzzled. If the shirt was here, what was Vader wearing? Piett had a sudden flash of a stark naked Lord Vader roaming the executor's hallways. Nah... 

"Told you he'd bounce back", Veers beamed. "He's a survivor." 

"What makes you think that?" Piett inquired. 

"Elementary, my dear Tomas. He took a shower and shaved. He hasn't done that since the accident. It means he's starting to take care of himself again", Veers elaborated. 

"But where is he?" 

"Let's take this one step at the time. He must have gotten some clothes. If he left without, we would know. A naked man in the hallways would be kind of hard to miss. Since even Lord Vader cannot materialize a suit out of thin air, he called someone to bring him clothes. You're following me so far?" 

Piett nodded. Hanley crossed his arms in front of his chest. 

"So, we simply use the redial on this comm unit, and see who he called last. I bet my boots it's quartermaster's" With a smug grin, Veers stabbed his finger on the redial button. After a few seconds, a fresh young face appeared on the screen. 

"Quartermasters, Ensign Lewis", the young man answered the call. 

"General Veers here. Ensign, has Lord Vader called this morning?" 

Lewis snapped to attention. "Yes, General. He ordered a full mechanic's outfit to be delivered to sickbay, Sir." 

"Thank you, Ensign. That will be all", Veers said, satisfied, and moved to break the connection. 

"Uh, General, may I inquire where we shall send his other stuff?" Lewis asked quickly. 

"Other stuff?" Piett moved into the range of the comm unit; he and Veers exchanged a glance. 

"Yes, Sir. We have several new uniforms for Lord Vader. Shall I have them sent to sickbay, or to his quarters?" Lewis continued. 

"His quarters", Piett answered without thinking, and stopped short. "No, wait." After all he'd been through the last days, would Lord Vader want to return to his meditation chamber? It would only remind him of the more than twenty years he spent as a cripple, dependent on medical help every moment of his life. A slow smile spread on Piett's face as an alternative presented itself. "There is a VIP apartment just below the bridge level." 

"The one with the view?" Lewis inquired. 

"Yes, that is the one." Indeed the quarters Piett had been thinking about were equipped with a large viewport that allowed a beautiful forward view of the stars over the Executor's bow. "Have it prepared for Lord Vader." 

"Yes, Admiral. Shall we move his personal belongings from his old quarters as well?" 

"No, I believe he will do that himself. Dismissed, Ensign." Piett cut the connection. On Veer's curious stare, Piett cocked his head and asked: "Would you like to sleep in an operating theatre if you didn't have to?" 

Veers chuckled. "You are right, of course", he granted. 

"Yes, but we still don't know where he is", Piett sighed. "This is a big ship, and I would hate to call a search." 

"We won't need to", Veers declared. "Think about it: Lord Vader was nearly killed in an explosion on a ship that he designed. If I were him, I would be hell bent to find out what caused it. So, the most likely place he is would be..." 

"...the main hangar!" Piett exclaimed. "You sly dog, you knew it all along." 

"Of course, Tomas." Veers grinned. "But I didn't want you to think I had suddenly picked up Lord Vader's talents and become clairvoyant." 

The two officers hurried out, leaving a very frustrated Dr. Hanley behind. 

* * *

Jay, working on top of the Avenger, looked up when the hangar doors opened and lost his grip on the hydrospanner. The tool clattered down past the solar panel and disappeared in the shadows under the Avenger's belly. 

"Ouww!" Anakin's deep voice boomed from below. "Watch what you're doing up there! I'm not wearing a helmet!" 

"Uh... sorry, Anakin", Jay called down. Damn, he had almost forgotten who he was working with. At least he could apologize for his clumsiness; there was a chance Lord Vader would let him live. A slim chance. "Are you alright?" 

Piett and Veers exchanged a glance. Anakin? Veers mouthed silently. Piett shrugged. There was no-one on Garin's team by that name. 

Vader emerged from under the Avenger's belly, rubbing his head. "I'll live", he growled. Looking up, he noticed Admiral Piett and General Veers approaching. So, that was what had caused Jay to drop a spanner on him. Not the nicest way to get his attention, but on the other hand, the kid was still trying to get over the fact that he was working with Darth Vader. Having the team call him by his old name had worked to a certain degree, but they were still a bit jumpy. All except Zev, who was used to being around the empire's most powerful. Vader decided not to make an issue of it, and wondered fleetingly if he was growing soft in his old age. Sithspit, when did he get so understanding and forgiving? Oh, yes, being a father did that to you, or so he had heard. Although slashing your firstborn's hand off probably didn't rank among the top ten parenting skills. Now, where had that come from? He pushed the thought aside and addressed the two officers: "Admiral Piett, General Veers. What brings you here, gentlemen?" 

Veers looked down at Vader sitting calmly on the floor. "We were a bit concerned, Mylord", he answered. "You went AWOL from sickbay." 

Vader rolled his eyes in annoyance. "I am perfectly alright. And if the two of you stop scaring the team into dropping tools on me, I will likely stay that way, too." 

He slid back under the Avenger. Piett squatted down next to him. "I wanted to remind you of the weekly officer's meeting this afternoon, Mylord." 

What? That was today? Damn, he really had lost track of time in sickbay! "17:00 hours, isn't it, Piett?" Vader asked aloud, remembering the schedule just in time. He craned his neck to glance at the clock mounted on the far wall; it was barely past noon. 

"Yes, Mylord." 

"Well, then you are a couple hours early. But since you're here, you can make yourself useful and hand me the No. 12 spanner." He pointed at the toolbox that sat next to his knee. Piett peered into the box, did not recognize any of the items in there, and finally chose one at random to hand it to Lord Vader. Vader took the tool and noticed immediately that it was the wrong one. With a sigh, he slid out from under the fighter again. 

"Piett, this is a screw driver. That is a spanner", he explained, pointing the correct tool out to Piett. "Don't they teach you anything at the academy?" he asked in an exasperated tone. 

"Not that, Mylord. At least not in the courses I took", Piett replied. 

"A shame. Well, since you obviously cannot help here, you may as well return to the bridge. Dismissed", Vader told him. So he was being deliberately cruel. But Force forbid he should have the admiral hovering over him like some mother hen the whole afternoon! Come to think of it, Piett and Veers had both displayed an awkward tendency toward that kind of behavior during the past days. Vader found it annoying, distracting, and strangely compelling. It had been so many years since someone had honestly cared for him, he simply didn't know how to feel about it. Or what to do with it. He almost regretted his words when he saw the slow blush that crept into Piett's cheeks. Almost. 

The admiral picked himself up from his kneeling position and cleared his throat. "Yes, Mylord", he confirmed, keeping his back ramrod straight and his shoulders squared, trying not to show his embarrassment. He had overstepped the lines, and Vader put him back in his place. Executing a precise about turn, Piett left, Veers close on his heels. 

Zev stared at Darth Vader for a long moment, but said nothing. It was the Sithlord who finally broke the silence. "What?" he growled, fixing the other members of the team with a cold stare. 

"N-nothing, Mylord", Kenny whispered. Zev stepped protectively in front of the youth. Vader frowned; Sith, he'd done it again! He scared the people around him without even trying. Sighing deeply, he put his head in his hands. "I'm 42 years old, I don't need anyone to mother me", he muttered. "It's embarrassing." 

A small smile tugged at Zev's lips. "I guess I know how you feel. My mother used to do it to me all the time. Of course, I was only a kid back then." 

Vader threw him a glance. "Well, I'm not a kid anymore. And Piett doesn't even remotely look like my mother." The whole team laughed at that. Good, he had managed to disperse the image of the fearsome Sithlord again. "We still have a lot of work to do." 

* * *

Luke climbed into his X-wing and strapped in. R2-D2 was already mounted in the socket behind the cockpit; the little droid beeped at him, excited that they were finally on their way. 

Luke read the translation on the small screen in front of him. "No, we're not going directly to Tattooine, Artoo. We're making a stop at Dagobah first." The little astromech droid beeped another inquiry. "No, Artoo, the others will be taking the direct route. That is why we're using two ships", Luke replied patiently and fired up the engines. He took the X-wing out of the Freedom's hangar. The Millenium Falcon followed close behind him. Luke switched on his commlink. "I'll see you on Tattooine." 

"Take care of yourself, Luke", Lando answered. 

"You too. Don't go up against Jabba without me." Luke cut the connection and pulled the X-wing in a sharp left turn, gaining speed as he did so. He punched in the coordinates for Dagobah and activated the hyperspace engines. The stars turned into streaks of light, and he was finally on his way. 

* * *

Hours had passed since Piett had found him in the hangar, and Darth Vader was starting to feel the strain of a full work shift mostly spent in positions the human body was not designed for. His head was pounding again, and he felt slightly dizzy every time he moved too fast. But he would be damned if he caved in before the rest of the team! He was a fully trained Jedi after all, and that meant he was supposed to be more resilient than the average human, among other things. 

Still, he found himself wishing for a break. His stomach rumbled... again. When was the last time he had eaten anything? Definitely not today. He vaguely remembered breakfast being something that turned his stomach by merely looking at it, so he had not touched it. And they had skipped lunch in favor of disassembling the fighter's engines. Some merciful soul provided them with coffee, but Vader felt he could not run on caffeine alone. It seemed to help his headache a little, but after the third or fourth cup he started to feel a little queasy. Must be the fact that the stuff had been simmering for hours. Made it taste like burnt engine grease, too. 

Torb looked up just in time to see Vader sway slightly on his feet. The Sithlord was white as a sheet. Damn, how could he forget that Anakin was injured? He was clearly not up to working any more today, and the admiral would have Torb's head if he allowed the Sithlord to collapse. Torb looked at the other team members; they, too, were exhausted. He had driven his men hard during the last three days, working long hours every night. He had not spared himself either, being a firm believer in the theory of leading by example. Well, at least they had almost finished disassembling the craft; Torb felt it safe to call a halt without making Vader feel like he was receiving a special treatment. 

"Okay, boys, that's it for today", he announced loudly. "Let's hit the mess hall before the rush sets in." 

Too tired to cheer, his men put their tools away and stretched, groaning when cramped muscles protested. 

"He's finally come to his senses. I don't think I could work a minute longer", Zev moaned. Darth nodded. He slowly straightened to his considerable height and rolled his shoulders, trying to work the kinks out of his back. 

"I don't know about you, but I could eat a whole bantha", Zev continued. Vader grunted. The thought of bantha, with or without a side dish of tusken raiders, seemed quite appealing. He silently trudged behind the others to the nearby mess hall and lined up with them at the counter, picking up trays and cutlery on the way. They were lucky; they had beaten the daily rush into the mess hall and were the first ones there. 

After twenty-two years of breathing air that was filtered beyond recognition, the various aromas in the mess hall assaulted Darth Vader's sense of smell and nearly overwhelmed him. The whole place smelled... delicious! Darth felt his mouth water. Force, how long had it been since his last meal? Forget the last meal, when did he have anything that even remotely smelled and tasted like real food? 

"Hey, Torb, you're driving your men too hard", the man behind the counter called in good-natured banter. He was wearing an apron over his uniform. "Made them skip lunch again, huh? That big guy looks like he's about to faint with hunger." 

Torb turned around to face Vader and was shocked; the man was practically drooling! "Anakin, when was the last time you ate something?" he asked, and could have kicked himself the next moment when he remembered Vader's reaction to Piett's mothering him. 

But Vader only blinked. "Not sure", he mumbled. "Yesterday, I think." Control, a little voice at the back of his mind admonished. You're staring at the stew like a starved Jawa. And you're looking like a complete idiot, too. With difficulty, Vader tore his gaze away from the food display. Wordlessly, Zev grabbed his arm and shoved him to the front of their short line. 

"Give him a plate, Josh, before he starts eating his boots", he ordered. 

Josh laughed. "I'm sure the boots would taste better than this", he replied, filling a plate with bantha stew and some sort of gruel. 

"What's wrong with bantha stew?" Vader asked, slightly puzzled. 

Josh grimaced. "You must be a rimworlder, boy. Those filthy beasts aren't fit for eating, if you ask me. But out here, in the outer rim, it's near impossible to get decent meat." He handed the plate to Vader. "At least it'll fill your stomach", he concluded, giving Vader a second, smaller plate with a small, syrup filled cake. 

The team chose seats at one of the long tables and started eating. Vader tried to eat slowly, savoring every bite. It took almost all of his control not to shovel the food in, but he told himself that it certainly wouldn't do to shock his empty stomach by eating to fast and be sick in front of the crew. He started to feel better after the first few mouthfuls, though. The queasy feeling subsided, as did his headache. And despite Josh's misgivings about the source of the meat, Vader found he liked it. Small wonder, since bantha had been among his favorites during his childhood. His mother had not been able to afford meat very often, so a dish of bantha stew had marked special occasions like birthdays and holidays. 

Having finished his portion, Vader got up to get a second helping. The room was quickly filling up with more crew members arriving for dinner; it must be shift change, Vader mused. He briefly considered cutting to the head of the line, but decided he did not want to risk his anonymity just yet. He had begun to pick up some of the conversations among the crew, and a surprising number of them had him as the subject. He would never get a better opportunity to eavesdrop on his crew and learn what they thought of him. 

"A second helping?" Josh's eyebrows threatened to disappear into his hairline. "You either are a rimworlder, or you're still growing", he commented, shaking his head. "But you have a core world accent, so I guess you must still be growing, and at your age, too. You can't get that horrid country pumpkin accent out of them, you know." 

Vader shrugged and returned to his table. If he only knew... it had taken him years to cultivate the proper Coruscant accent with its rolled r's and clipped vowels, and he still slipped back into his native Tattooine accent when under stress. 

In the meantime, a good number of other crew members had joined the team at the table, and a lively conversation was going on during the meal. Vader saw Kenny shift uneasily in his seat, while Torb was putting on a stony face and Zev tried hard not to grin. He immediately knew who was the subject of conversation. Pretending not to notice, he reclaimed his seat. 

"I tell you, he's gone totally nuts", one man seated opposite him and slightly to the left stated. "He cracked. Completely wacko. Fit to be admitted." 

"Who told you that?" another wanted to know. 

"I overheard two of the doctors talking. He destroyed half the sickbay. Attacked the CMO, too. There's talk they're going to send him to the funny farm." 

Interesting, Vader thought. I knew they think I'm a sadist, but my reputation seems to have reached a new level. 

"You new here?" the crewman opposite him asked. Vader nodded an affirmative. "What is your name?" the man continued. Vader swallowed a mouthful of the bland gruel before answering. 

"Anakin", he said. 

"Well, welcome aboard, Anakin. I'm Terence." He shook Vader's hand. "So, where are you from?" 

"Tattooine", Vader mumbled, straining his ears to hear more of the conversation he had been listening to. 

"Oh, wonderful, yet another rimworlder", a man in a pilot's uniform cut in sarcastically. Vader gave him a slow, calculating glance. 

"Don't like rimworlders, do you?" he drawled. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Zev throw him a bewildered look. 

The pilot leaned back in his chair, and arrogant sneer on his face. "Well, I guess you are doing the best you can, but still, you rimworlders leave a lot to be desired. Education, for one thing." 

Vader nodded slowly. "Yeah, you're right. Speaking four or five alien languages ain't education." 

"Pah", the other snorted in disgust. "Let them learn Basic. If they can. Half of those non-humans cannot even wrap their tongues around it. Take Wookies, for example. Those beasts only growl and howl, and they call that a language." 

Vader's expression darkened. "Wookies are an honorable people", he stated. "I've known a few." 

"Next thing you tell me it's wrong to keep them as slaves. You rimworlders sure have funny ideas." 

Vader felt very much like strangling this supremacist idiot on the spot. What did this fool know of slavery? 

"You better keep your mouth shut. Lord Vader doesn't share your ideas about slavery, you know", Terence warned the pilot. Vader looked at him, surprised. Sure, he had actively opposed slavery throughout his career both as a Jedi and later under Palpatine, but to his chagrin, he had never seemed to make much of a difference. 

"And we don't either", Zev added. 

"Than you are as insane as he is. Tell me, why do slaves never try to escape? If they didn't want it, why don't they simply fight for their freedom?" 

"Because slaves are implanted with a transmitter equipped with an explosive device", Vader told him quietly. "Try to run, try to fight your owner, and boom, no more slave", he added in an almost whisper, mimicking an explosion. Several of the men at the looked like they were going to be sick. 

"How do you know...?" Terence began, suddenly realizing just how Anakin knew. "Oh, shit, man, I'm sorry." 

Vader shrugged. "It's been a long time since then." 

"Come on, guys, let's change the subject", Zev suggested. Learning that Darth Vader had once been a slave made him feel uneasy. No wonder he's been pushing anti-slavery laws, he thought. No wonder he killed the head of the slave trader's ring on Kashyyk with his bare hands. 

"Yes", the pilot said. "When will you clowns finally let us fly the new ships?" 

Uh-oh, Torb thought. This guy sure has a talent for getting into trouble. "When we think they're safe", he answered. "One already exploded during tests, and I'm not risking another pilot's life by ignoring that." 

The annoying pilot leaned closer. "I happen to know that it was a pilot's error. Siena Fleet Systems have tested the Avenger thoroughly. They wouldn't deliver a faulty craft." 

"You've never flown with Lord Vader, have you?" Kenny piped in. "He's the best pilot in the fleet. He doesn't make mistakes." 

Ah, hero worship. So that's why Kenny is so nervous around me, Vader thought. Wonder when he'll ask me for an autograph. 

"You people make me sick!" the pilot announced. He got up abruptly, leaving his untouched tray on the table. 

"Hey, aren't you eating this anymore?" Vader called after him. The man certainly was a sore loser. With a shrug, Vader pulled the plate towards him and started to polish it off. He noticed the others stare at him. 

"What?" he asked, exasperated. 

"That's your third helping. I've never seen anyone pack away that much", Terence said. 

"I'm hungry. And it's not like the fleet can't afford to feed me", he declared. 

Suddenly, Terence jumped to his feet, hissing "The admiral" under his breath. Everybody followed suit; chairs were pushed back, men stood, and backbones snapped erect all over the mess hall as Admiral Piett entered and looked around. Everybody except Darth Vader, who calmly stayed seated and kept eating. 

"At ease", Piett called to the room at large. The crew members resumed their seats and continued their meal. 

"Piett", Vader greeted him, gesturing with his spoon to the empty chair opposite him. "Go get some and join us. It's delicious." 

"I am certain of that, Lord Vader, however, I have already eaten", Piett answered smoothly. "But if I may join you for a cup of coffee..." 

"Coffee sounds good. Get one for me too, will you? Black, with sugar." 

"Certainly, Mylord." Piett bowed to him and went to get the coffee. 

Several men at the table had paled visibly when Piett had greeted Vader; the one who had declared Vader a nutcase and insisted he was 'completely wacko' got up in a hurry and rushed toward the bathroom, looking quite green. 

Vader leaned back in his chair and sighed. It had been an excellent meal until now. For the first time in many years, he had been able to share a meal with others, and in relative anonymity as well. Well, he knew the latter part could not last. Sooner or later, the men under his command would know his face as well as the mask he used to wear. He simply had to deal with it. 

* * *

To be continued. 


	7. Technical Details

**Force of Destiny**

** Summary: **   
An accident reveals an old deception, and Darth Vader must make a decision that will change not only his life. 

* * *

**Chapter 6**

Piett returned quickly with two mugs of coffee, handing one to Vader who accepted it with a nod of his head. The admiral remained standing, shifting his weight uncomfortably, while Vader took the first sip of the hot beverage. To Piett's eyes, the Dark Lord looked tired, but more relaxed than he had ever seen him. Working with the crew seemed to have done him a world of good. It had certainly taken his mind off his own situation. 

"Why don't you take a seat, Admiral?" Vader's deep voice interrupted Piett's thought. 

"Thank you, Sir." Piett sat down opposite Vader, cradling his cup with both hands. How to begin? Darth Vader regarded him with open curiosity over the rim of his own mug. 

"What is it, Admiral?" he asked, setting his coffee down. 

Piett found he could not quite meet those piercing blue eyes. "I... wish to apologize, Mylord", he began, "about my earlier behavior. I was out of line." 

Vader's eyebrows shot up. What was Piett talking about? Not the little scene in the hangar? But of course... Piett was more perceptive than he gave him credit for. It had taken him a while, but he understood that he was getting on Vader's nerves. Vader felt a smile tug at his lips. 

"Apology accepted, Admiral. Is there anything else?" 

"The meeting will begin in twenty minutes, Mylord. This is the agenda." Piett handed Vader a small datapad. The Dark Lord studied it for a moment, scrolling through the list. Monthly department reports were scheduled for the meeting. Sith, how was he supposed to stay awake through this? The last point on the list caught his attention. It had obviously been added recently, as an answer to recent events. Preliminary report on the TIE Avenger. That would be his part. And at the end of the meeting, too. For a fleeting moment, Vader wondered if this was Piett's revenge for the dressing-down he received in the hangar, making him sit through endless hours of boring reports. But no, the admiral was not that petty. Anyway, there was no way he could make only a short appearance at the meeting and leave the tedious details to Piett while he got a good night's rest. I must be getting old, Vader mused, if I think about shirking my duties in favor of sleep. "Well, then, Admiral, we don't want to be late", he said aloud, handing the pad back to Piett and slowly getting to his feet. There was still a dull ache in the muscles of his back and legs; at least the headache and dizziness were completely gone now. 

Torb Garin, too, got up, motioning to his team. "And we should get back to the hangar and finish up. I will send you my report, Anakin... I mean, Lord Vader", he corrected himself quickly. 

Vader turned to look at him. Garin was pale with fatigue, and so were the men under his command. Vader had gotten a good impression of how hard Torb and his team had been working during the last three days. They were determined to find out what was wrong with the Avenger in record time. "No," he said. 

Garin gave him a quizzical look. What did he do wrong? 

"Sir?" 

"You will not go back on duty today, Garin. In fact, none of you will touch the ship until 08:00 hours tomorrow morning. Do I make myself clear?" Vader snapped. Enough was enough. As commendable as his work ethics were, Torb needed to learn when to stop. 

The sergeant stood at attention. "Yes, Sir", he grated out between clenched teeth. Somehow, he had managed to displease the Sithlord, despite following his orders to the letter and putting all his energy and that of his men into work. And it still wasn't enough. 

Vader caught the thought and shook his head. He knew he demanded a lot, but he always believed it was within reason. Yet his crew perceived him as some kind of slave driver. 

"Torb, I want you to listen to me very carefully", he began. "I want results. I don't care much how you get them. That is your part. But I do not want you to miss crucial details because you're too tired to look straight. Do you understand me?" 

Garin blinked. So Vader thought he had been overdoing things. But he still trusted him to do his job right. He nodded slowly. "Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir", he replied. 

"Good. Now get some rest, and I'll see you at 08:00 tomorrow. Dismissed." 

The Dark Lord turned to leave, motioning for Piett to follow him. 

* * *

Piett caught up with Vader in the corridor. He had difficulty matching the Dark Lord's long strides without breaking into an undignified run. Vader hardly seemed to notice. At least, he did not slow down. The admiral felt a certain degree of relieve when the lift doors closed behind them. He pressed a button, and the cabin started to move toward the bridge level where the conference room was located. 

Vader leaned against the cabin's wall, arms crossed in front of his chest, and stared at Piett. 

"Piett, I think I owe you an apology", he said after a while. 

"Mylord?" Piett gave him a shocked look. Darth Vader, apologizing to him? The galaxy must be about to end! 

Vader lifted a hand to quiet Piett. 

"No, let me finish, Admiral. This is not exactly easy for me", he continued. "I know I'm difficult to deal with. Especially so for the last few days. I do appreciate your concern. I just don't know how to handle it." 

Piett's expression softened. "I understand, Mylord. There is no need for an apology." 

Do you, Admiral? Vader thought. Do you really understand what it means to live behind a steel mask for more than half your life, never able to get close to someone, never able to truly share with someone, until you forget how that feels? And then your life is given back to you, and you discover you're crippled in more than one way. And you did it to yourself in order to survive and stay sane. Can you understand that, Piett? Loud, he said: "Thank you, Admiral." He shook his head to chase away the gloomy thoughts. "Anyway, Admiral, if I did not know you better I'd say you got your revenge. You did spoil my fun." 

"Sir?" 

"Let me just say that the crew harbors some fascinating thoughts about me. I've learned that I am a raving lunatic. Quite interesting, really." 

The lift came to a stop, and Piett was spared an answer. 

The two men exited the cabin and made their way to the conference room. They were a few minutes late, and the department heads were already waiting for them. Vader bore their curious stares without comment. Piett headed for his usual place at the long table, put Vader stopped him with a hand on the admiral's shoulder. 

"No, Piett. You will head the meeting today. I am not prepared." He nodded in the direction of the larger, high-backed chair at the head of the table, while he himself took Piett's seat. 

"Of course, Mylord." Piett didn't miss a beat. 

* * *

Department head after department head droned on about the previous month, in exhaustive - and exhausting - detail; the amount of fuel which had been used, how many shots had been fired during practice, which consumables needed to be stocked at the next port. Vader was listening with only half an ear; the Dark Lord was nearly bored to tears. Couldn't they just give a summary? It would definitely save them time, and it would help make decisions easier. Piett certainly did not need to know the fuel consumption down to the last liter; all he needed to know was if it was within normal parameters, and when they needed to refuel. 

Vader had tuned out his officer's voices and idly played with the datapad in front of him in an attempt to stay awake while an endless amount of useless information was recited. 

"Lord Vader?" 

"Hmm? Sorry, Piett, I was... thinking." Damn. He should have paid more attention. 

"Of course, Sir. Your report, please?" 

"There is not much to report yet. The Avenger is not fit for flight due to failure of the coolant system. Staff Sergeant Garin has determined that the coolant pumps are faulty, and we have begun disassembling a second Avenger for comparison. I await further results within the next days. So far, both ships match up to the specifications given to us by SFS", he said, adding: "I would welcome your comments, Gentlemen." 

One of the officers cleared his throat. "Sir, you have been involved with the development of this craft?" he asked timidly. Piett frowned at him. 

"Are you implying that Lord Vader's design is faulty, Lieutenant?" he queried in a cold voice. Vader raised his hand to silence Piett. 

"Let him speak, Admiral", he admonished. "Continue, Lieutenant." 

"Uh... I didn't mean it that way, Sir. I was just thinking... you said the ships met SFS's specs. But do those match yours, Sir?" The words came out in a rush. Vader stared at the Lieutenant, dumbfounded. Could it really be that simple? He was such an idiot! That was the first thing he should have checked, and he had missed it. 

"Piett, the crew is right. I should have my head examined", he groaned. 

Veers threw Piett a questioning glance, but the admiral shook his head. Tell you later, he mouthed silently. 

Not noticing their little exchange, Vader used his datapad to access his private files on the Avenger's design in the ship's main computer. Borrowing a second pad, he called up SFS's manuals. He found the first difference almost immediately, now that he knew what to look for. Disgusted, he threw the pads down on the table hard enough to shatter one and started to swear. It took him several minutes to exhaust his extensive Huttese vocabulary, and he was rather inventive, too. Fortunately, no-one but General Veers understood a word of what he was saying. The general, however, was blushing furiously as Vader questioned the ancestry and sexual preferences of SFS's engineers in graphic detail. 

Finally, Vader calmed down, took a couple deep breaths, and noticed the interesting shade of red on Veers' face. "I take it you speak Huttese, General?" Veers nodded slowly. 

"In this case, I would prefer if you did not translate what I just said", Vader commanded dryly. 

"I don't think I could, Mylord. Some of it was... bizarre", Veers answered. "Good. I think we are finished here. Unless you have something to add, Admiral?" 

Piett slowly shook his head. 

"Then this meeting is adjourned." Vader nodded to each of the officers in turn as they got up and left the room. Only he and Piett stayed behind. 

Vader leaned back in his chair and stared off into space. 

"Something wrong, Sir?" Piett asked. 

"It's nothing, Piett." 

"So... what did you find, if you don't mind me asking?" 

"It's the wrong pump. They used a smaller model than the one I put down in my specs. No wonder it burns out", Vader said. "Idiots. They must have tested each part individually, but never the complete ship." He shook his head. "And now we have to compare each and every part on the lists. Tedious work, Admiral, but it can wait until tomorrow." 

"Maybe the computer can...", Piett offered, but Vader cut him short: "Yes, but we have to program it first to find the differences." He rubbed his forehead. 

"If you wish to retire for the night, Mylord", Piett began, but let the sentence trail away. Vader barked a short, humorless laugh. 

"Somehow, the prospect of returning to sickbay does not appeal to me, Piett. And my own quarters..." He shrugged. 

"I see", Piett said. "I took the liberty of having quarters prepared for you, Mylord." 

Vader smiled. "Piett, have I told you that you know me too well?" For once, he did not mind Piett's mothering him. Trust the admiral to anticipate his wishes! 

"Frequently, Mylord. If you would follow me, I will show you to your new quarters." 

* * *

Vader was struck speechless as he entered the VIP quarters. He never knew his ship held such luxury. His old quarters were large, but austere and practical. These were only slightly smaller, and anything but austere. A deep carpet covered the floor of the study, the furniture was tasteful and made from real wood, not the metals and plastics found in other cabins. The fresher was at least twice as large as the one in his old quarters, with a shower and a bathtub. The floor here was Alderaanian marble, a rare and expensive commodity even before the first Death Star destroyed the planet. The bathroom floor alone must have cost a fortune. Vader moved on into the bedroom. The bed was almost decadently large, certainly too large for a single person even of his height. 

But the best thing was the view. Large viewports in both the study and the bedroom overlooked the Executor's bow, allowing him to see the stars even from the bed when the ship was cruising at sublight speed. It was beautiful. 

"These are guest quarters?" Vader asked, sitting down on the bed to pull his boots off. 

"Yes, Mylord. For visiting dignitaries. There are two more apartments like this, on other decks. None have ever been used. I take it they are sufficient?" 

"They are indeed", Vader said softly. "Help me with the boots, will you?" Piett did as he was asked, and Vader stretched out on the large bed a few moments later. It was soft, almost too soft for his taste. 

"I had your new uniforms delivered here, Mylord. They are in the closet." Piett turned to open the closet. When Vader did not answer, the admiral turned back to him to discover that the Dark Lord was sound asleep, face turned toward the viewport. 

Piett shook his head. Taking a blanket from the closet, he shook it out and spread it over Vader's body. Then he left quietly, turning off the lights on his way out. 

* * *

To be continued. 


	8. Talks

**Force of Destiny**

** Summary: **   
An accident reveals an old deception, and Darth Vader must make a decision that will change not only his life. 

* * *

**Chapter 7**

Piett dropped into the high-backed leather chair in his quarters, stretching his legs out and sighing deeply. It had been a long day. Leaning back against the headrest, the admiral closed his eyes and allowed the day's tasks to fade from his mind as the doorbell chimed. 

"Come", he called and cracked open one eye. 

Maximillian Veers entered and nodded a greeting. 

"You look beat", he observed. 

"Mm-mmh." Piett allowed his eye to drop closed again. "Do me a favor, Max. There is a bottle of Correllian brandy in the lower desk drawer." 

"That bad, huh?" Chuckling, Veers got the liquor and two shot glasses. "So, how did it go?" He poured two glasses and set one down on the table in front of Piett before sitting on the small sofa opposite his friend. 

"Didn't get a chance to talk to him. He sat down on the bed, keeled over, and was asleep before you could say 'rebellion'." 

"Damn." Veers sipped on his brandy; the alcohol burned in his throat. "What's he planning, Tomas?" 

"I have no idea. In fact, I don't think he's planning anything right now. He acts like nothing has changed, except that he's out of that suit." Piett opened his eyes long enough to locate the shotglass, took it, and downed the brandy in one swallow. "He's too busy parading around without his helmet and fraternizing with the crew." 

Veers shook his head. "Do I detect a hint of bitterness here, Tomas?" 

"Hell, Max, he... I don't know. He used to always be on top of things, and now he's just drifting. Frankly, it scares me." 

"You know, he might just need a bit more time to adjust to everything", Veers suggested. "I'm surprised he's handling it as well as he does." 

Piett set his glass down hard. "He doesn't have the time, Max!" he shouted. "His majesty will soon know he's healed, if he doesn't already, and then what? If you're right and the Emperor ordered the transmitters implanted, he'll recall us and kill Lord Vader as soon as he sets foot on Coruscant. And probably us, too!" 

"So, you're afraid for your own life?" 

Piett made a rude noise. "We know too much, Max. The Emperor cannot afford rumors of the cause of Lord Vader's condition to spread. It might drive more systems into the arms of the Rebellion." 

"I see." Veers calmly refilled his own glass and Piett's. "So, what are you going to do?" 

"Follow Lord Vader, of course. Only he's not leading us right now." 

"And in the meantime?" 

"In the meantime, I'm monitoring all outgoing transmissions. We need to keep a step ahead." 

Veers regarded his friend for a long moment. How far could he trust Piett? Was he truly saying what Veers thought he said? Or did he misread him? He decided to take the risk. 

"You know, I've always been loyal to the Emperor. I thought we were doing the right thing", he said slowly. "But now... I don't know anymore. I don't know if he deserves loyalty." 

Piett felt a cold shiver run down his spine. 

"What are you saying, Max?" he whispered. 

"I'm not saying anything, Tomas. Not yet. I'm just thinking." 

"You're thinking about treason." 

Veers locked his gaze with Piett's. "Depends on where your loyalties lie, Tomas", he said quietly. "You did say you'd follow Lord Vader. I'll do the same, and if his course takes him away from the Empire... I'll still follow him. Will you do the same? Or will we find ourselves on different sides of the battle?" 

Piett swallowed hard. "What about the crew?" he asked. "I have more than a quarter million men to think about. I cannot abandon them." 

"Neither can you decide for them, Tomas." Veers smiled. "But you said it yourself. The Emperor will probably order us killed as well. So, what options are left for you? Let yourself be led to the slaughter like a good little lamb, or follow Lord Vader." 

"Which might still be the same, Max." Piett sighed and massaged his temples. 

"The question is, what can we do now? I don't like the idea of sitting on my hands until Lord Vader is ready to face the truth any more than you." 

"Nothing", Piett sighed. "Except... how far can you trust your men?" 

"Depends on what you ask of them." 

Piett leaned forward in his chair. "A little spy work, Max. I told you I know who the II agents on board are. Could your men keep an eye on them if I give you a list?" 

Veers laughed; that was more to his liking. "Of course they can! What do you have in mind?" 

"If any of the agents tries to contact Coruscant, I want them stopped." 

"Hmmm. You know, it's better to be a step ahead. My men could set up a number of, say, diversions. Start a fight or two, give you an excuse to fill the brig. Crew morale is low enough, I'm expecting fights among the crew any time now." 

"That's brilliant, Max!" Piett exclaimed. 

"But I'm making no promises on how much restrain they'll use when push comes to shove, if you get my drift. They don't exactly like Imperial Intelligence." 

"I don't want them dead. You can't interrogate a corpse." Piett grinned. "However, I think you'll find... appropriate punishment if one of your men goes a little too far and breaks a bone or two." 

The two men grinned at each other. 

"So, tell me. What exactly did Lord Vader say back in the conference room?" Piett finally asked. 

"Oh, come on, Tomas, you heard his orders. I'm not to translate it." 

"It was in Huttese, wasn't it?" 

Veers nodded, blushing again at the memory of the swear words Vader had used. Some of them were even new to him. 

"Yes, and let me just say that it was not anything you could repeat in polite company. In fact, most of what he said is anatomically impossible, and the rest was so rude it would make a Toydarian blush." 

"Who would have thought. By the way, where did you learn to speak Huttese?" 

"I grew up on Nar Shaddaa. Huttese is my first language. But what I don't understand is... where did Lord Vader learn it? And how in the Galaxy did he pick up that accent?" 

"What do you mean?" 

"He sounds like a country pumpkin!" 

"What?" Piett could not believe his ears. Lord Vader, a country pumpkin? "You're kidding me." 

Veers shook his head. "I'm not. Lord Vader sounds exactly like a Tattooine desert rat. He's not some moisture farmer's kid, is he?" 

"Nah...." 

* * *

Luke Skywalker landed his X-wing on a clearing not far from Yoda's hut. This time, he had had no trouble during his approach to Dagobah, unlike the last time. Apparently Yoda did not deem it necessary to show him where to land in his unique way anymore. 

He climbed out of the cockpit; Dagobah had not changed a bit. It was still as hot and moist as he remembered. Fog rose over the swamp and small animals stirred as Luke made his way to Yoda's hut. The small, green- skinned Jedi Master was awaiting him. 

"Returned you have, Luke, but not to complete you training, I sense", Yoda said without preamble. 

"A friend needs me. But I need some questions answered first, Master. And I will complete my training with you later", Luke answered. 

"Too late it may be, young Luke. Strong is Vader. Not believe me you did, rush to fight him you did, and defeated you were. Unprepared you were." 

"Unprepared for what?" Luke felt his anger rise in him; calm, he told himself. Control. Anger leads to the dark side. Taking a deep breath, he addressed Yoda again: "Unprepared for what, Master? The fight, or the mind games? Or..." he paused for a moment... " ...the truth?" 

"Decide for yourself, you must", Yoda said cryptically. 

"Don't play games with me, Master. Is Darth Vader my father?" 

Yoda's expressive ears lowered a bit. "Told you, did he?" 

"Yes." 

"Believe him, you did not?" 

"Yoda, I... I don't want to believe him. But I could sense he was telling the truth." 

"Still you need to ask, then?" 

Luke's face hardened. "Perhaps I want to know why you and Ben lied to me." 

Ben's shimmering form appeared next to Yoda. "Luke, you will find that many of the truths we cling to depend greatly on our point of view." 

He paused before continuing: "When Anakin Skywalker, your father, was seduced by the Dark Side, he ceased to be the man I knew and became Darth Vader. So, what I told you was true. From a certain point of view." 

"From a certain point of view?" Luke sputtered. "Ben, he is my father, no matter what name he is using. You would have me murder my own parent!" 

"That is were you are wrong, Luke. Anakin does not exist anymore. From a certain point of view, Darth Vader did kill him." 

"I'm not so sure about that", Luke retorted, keeping a tight leash on his anger. Now was not the time to lose control. "A few nights ago, I had a vision." 

"A vision of Vader?" Ben asked. What was the Sith Lord up to? 

"Or a vision of Anakin Skywalker. He was in pain, Ben. Emotionally. I felt... hurt, confusion. Betrayal. He was suffering. Something has happened to him, but I don't know what. And I don't know what to do about it. I hoped you could help", he finished lamely. 

Ben shook his head. "Thank you, Luke. For still trusting me. But I fear you will not like my advice." 

"Believe this vision, you cannot", Yoda added. "Sense the same, we did not. A ruse it must be." 

"It was genuine", Luke said, with conviction. 

"Hope to save him, you do. Foolish that hope is." 

"Luke, I once thought like you. You must understand what the Dark Side does to a person. It consumes you utterly. There is no way back." 

"Listen to Obi-Wan you must. All depends on it", Yoda implored. 

"No." Luke shook his head. "I cannot believe that. There is a way to save him. There has to be." 

"At least complete your training, Luke", Ben pleaded, hoping to distract the young man from his self-destructive path. The Jedi Master was not sure he could stand seeing another of his pupils fall to the Dark Side, and Vader's revelation had brought Luke dangerously close to that abyss. His anger was closer to the surface, as it had been with his father so many years ago. Where did I fail you, Anakin? Ben thought. How could I not see that your good intentions would lead you to ruin? I will not allow it to happen to your son, too. 

"I'm sorry, Ben. I cannot stay now. Han needs me, and Leia. I'm sorry." And father, he added silently. 

Luke turned around to leave when Ben called after him: "Remember, Luke: Anger leads to the Dark Side. Do not let your anger control you, or you will suffer your father's fate." 

"I won't. I promise, Ben." 

With that, Luke Skywalker left the two Jedi Masters to return to his ship. 

"Foolish he is", Yoda sighed. "Now things are worse." 

"I am not sure, Yoda. Perhaps there is still hope for Anakin." 

"Trained, he should not have been. Told you so, I have." 

"Which one? The father, or the son?" 

Obi-Wan faded into the fog, leaving Yoda in a foul mood. 

* * *

Piett quietly entered Vader's new quarters, a droid carrying a cloth- covered tray with coffee and sandwiches following close on his heels. The Dark Lord was still asleep. Apparently, he had not moved a muscle since Piett had left the evening before. The Admiral ordered the droid to set the tray down and leave before he bent over the sleeping man. 

"Lord Vader?" he queried softly. Vader did not react. 

"Lord Vader?" Piett asked again, a little louder this time. Still no reaction. Vader slept like the proverbial log. Small wonder he had not answered the comm unit. Admiral Piett touched his shoulder and slightly shook him. Finally, Vader stirred. 

"Mmhhh? Whazzit?" he mumbled. 

"Good morning, Mylord." 

Vader sat up groggily. "Piett. Did you tuck me in last night?" 

Piett chose to pour a cup of coffee instead of answering. "Coffee, Mylord?" 

"You did tuck me in." Vader took the offered cup, sipped on it, and gasped. "Force! This stuff is strong enough to wake the dead!" He downed the rest of the brew in one swallow and grimaced. 

Piett smiled thinly. "I thought you could use it." 

Vader got up, handing the cup back to Piett. "You must stop mothering me, Admiral", he chided. 

"Yes, Mylord. Fresh uniforms are in the closet, Mylord." 

"And don't 'yes, Mylord' me." 

"Yes, Mylord." 

Vader rolled his eyes, grabbed a uniform - cut like an officer's uniform, but black instead of olive, and without rank insignia - from the closet without looking and headed for the shower. He came back a few minutes later, feeling refreshed and much more awake. Piett was still there, standing at attention. 

"What time is it, Admiral?" 

"08.15, Mylord," Piett replied without consulting his watch. 

"What? I should have been in the hangar at 08.00 hours! Why didn't you wake me earlier?" Vader shouted. Damn Piett! What had gotten into the man lately? He was Darth Vader, Lord of the Sith, not some kid that needed to be told when to go to bed or when to get up! 

Piett looked straight into Vader's eyes. Vader still was not quite himself. Perhaps Veers was right, and he needed more time. "Mylord, you are still recovering from your injuries. You had surgery only three days ago. You should be in sickbay, resting", he snapped. 

"Are you finished, Admiral?" Vader interrupted coldly. He looked ready to strangle Piett. 

Piett shut up, trembling, but he held Vaders gaze. Vader was the first to break eye contact. With difficulty, Darth Vader calmed himself. Control, he told himself. Control your anger, do not let it rule you. Piett may have overstepped himself, but he was only trying to help. He certainly did not deserve to die for this. 

"Thank you for caring, Piett", Vader said after a long moment. "It's been a long time since..." He let the sentence trail away. 

Piett sighed; he knew how close Vader had come to kill him this time. His mood swings certainly seemed to be getting worse instead of better. Still, he had to try. Even if the Sith Lord would have his own way in the end, as usual. 

"At least have some breakfast first", he suggested. 

Vader looked at him again, blue eyes flashing. "Don't push it, Admiral!" he warned, grabbed a sandwich from the plate and hurried out. 

Piett heaved a sigh. 

* * *

When Vader arrived at the main hangar, work was already well underway. Garin had apparently followed his orders to the letter and started at 08:00 hours. He silently cursed first himself for not waking up earlier, and then Piett again for letting him sleep late. 

"Torb!" he called. Garin's head popped out from behind the engine compartment. 

"Gather the team. I have some news," Vader ordered. 

Garin nodded. "You heard him, boys", he called. The men put away their tools and gathered around Vader. Garin thought that Anakin appeared slightly nervous. 

"We will not find any discrepancies between the fighter and the documentation", the Dark Lord began. The team exchanged confused looks. 

"What do you mean?" Zev queried. 

"There aren't any. We can assume the fighters match up to Siena Fleet System's specs", Vader continued. "However, these do not match up to my design." 

Zev groaned. "Sith! That means we have to compare the part's lists!" 

Vader nodded. "Exactly. Which is what you are going to do." He fixed Zev with a cool stare. "I shall give you access to all my files concerning the Avenger. Do not attempt to read any other files. Is that clear, Zev?" 

Zev smiled, a bit nervous. "I don't know what you're talking about." 

"I know your reputation, Zev. I know how close you came to a conviction for slicing into Coruscant's mainframe and altering certain data. Had it not been for your grandmother's influence, you would be in the spice mines of Kessel now instead of serving on the finest ship in the fleet." 

"Ah, the sins of my misspent youth. Don't worry, Anakin. I've learned my lesson." 

"I hope so, for your sake, Zev." Vader did not have to make the threat any clearer, but Zev was not intimidated. Anakin might threaten, but he still trusted him with the files, and that was what counted in the end. 

"Okay, then let's move someplace with computer access", Garin interjected. "Zev, can you set up a program to compare the lists?" 

"Are you kidding? Any protocol droid could do that!" 

"Do it, then." 

"Let's use the computer outlets in the ready room, shall we?" 

"Good idea. That way we're closer to the coffee machine", the usually quiet Jay murmured under his breath. 

The whole team, including Vader, moved to the hangar's ready room. Vader had never been here before. The room looked like any other ready room in the known reaches of space. A table and several chairs, a couch in one corner facing an entertainment unit and a few computer workstations. Much time was spent here by mechanics on stand-by duty, and they had tried to make the room look less sterile by hanging posters on the bare walls, some of which almost made Vader blush. 

He sat down in front of one of the workstations and quickly keyed in his access code. He brought up his files on the Avenger and opened them. 

"There you go. I shall leave you now. Garin, report to me when you are finished with the comparison." 

"Certainly. You're not staying?" 

"No. I'm moving my personal belongings into my new quarters. The apartment below the bridge level." Vader got up and turned to leave. 

Garin whistled. "VIP quarters. Need a hand with your stuff? The computers can do this here almost alone." 

Vader stopped short, momentarily astonished at the level of acceptance he felt from Garin. It was a genuine offer, but another thought crossed Vader's mind. Getting so close to him might not be good for Garin and his team in more than one way. At the very least, it would set them apart from the rest of the crew. No, it was better for everyone involved to not allow this to develop any further. If he wanted friends, he would have to look among the higher ranking officers. If he wanted friends... suddenly, Vader was not so certain about that. 

Horrified, Darth Vader realized that being his friend might mean drawing the Emperor's wrath. It could only be a matter of time until... Vader pushed the thought aside, shaking his head. He did not want to think about it yet. He wasn't ready. 

He won't wait for you to be ready, a tiny voice in the back of his mind whispered. He crippled you. As soon as he learns you're healed, he will come for you. 

Resolutely, Vader squashed his doubts. He wasn't ready yet. For once, the universe just had to wait for him... 

"No, thank you", he said softly. "I don't have that much stuff to move." That said, he left. 

* * *

To be continued 


	9. Moving

**Force of Destiny**

** Summary: **   
An accident reveals an old deception, and Darth Vader must make a decision that will change not only his life. 

* * *

** Chapter 8 **

The closer he came to his old quarters, the more Darth Vader slowed his steps. The Sith Lord felt strangely torn. He wanted to move on, to embrace his new life as a healthy human being, and he was well aware that the first step toward this goal was to face the conditions he had had to live under for the past twenty-something years for one last time. And yet, he dreaded even this tiny first step. 

His old cabin, a converted store room, was filled with the machinery his body had needed to survive until recently. Filled with the stuff Darth Vader's nightmares were made of. At least, some of them. Once, the circular meditation chamber in the center of the cavernous room had been his retreat, his sanctuary. Now it seemed like a trap to him. 

He found himself standing in front of the door sooner than he expected, sooner than he wished. Taking deep breaths to calm the sudden fluttering of his heart, Vader palmed open the door and entered. Darkness greeted him. Darkness, and a deep, echoing silence. He hesitantly stepped over the threshold; overhead lights came to life automatically as the door slid close behind him, bathing every surface in a cold light. His steps seemed unnaturally loud in the silence. He had left only a few days ago, why did it feel as if no living soul had ever been here? 

Because I did not truly live then, Vader answered his own unspoken question. He had merely existed, day after day, trapped in a life support suit that cut him off from real life. Sterile, dead, just like this cabin. 

Darth tried to chase the morbid thoughts from his mind; it was only a room, after all. Nothing was going to jump at him from the shadows. He would just pick up his tools, and his few personal belongings, and leave. 

Resolutely he strode over to the work area. It was as neat as he had always kept it; tools to the left of the long work table, clean and ready for use. His current project, a better sensor array for probe droids, in the middle, parts laid out in the order they needed to be assembled in. The right hand corner was occupied by a computer terminal and a handful of data disks. 

Picking up the toolbox he kept under the worktable, Vader stored the tools and sensor parts in it. The data disks he put into a pocket of his uniform. 

Next he moved to his bedchamber. If the anteroom had seemed impersonal and sterile, this room felt like a morgue. Cold. Dead. White sheets on the hospital bed opposite the door, medical equipment surrounding it. No, not like a morgue. It didn't look too unlike the ICU he had woken up in a few days ago. His personal 2-1B unit stood silent vigil in one corner. The machine was still in standby mode, as he had preferred to keep it when he was not in his quarters. He never cared much for it. It had about as much personality as a speeder. So unlike C-3PO. But then again, the 2-1B had not been constructed to be an individual. Only an efficient surgeon. He would send it to sickbay later. He had no use for it anymore, and there it could continue to perform its primary function. 

Vader opened the small closet built into the wall. A spare suit, a few pairs of shorts, a pair of boots, socks, a small box at the back of the closet. Barely enough to fill a medium-sized suitcase. But his life had never been dictated by material things. Oh, he knew he was considered rich. His service to the Emperor had brought him wealth, if nothing else. But he had never allowed that wealth to rule his personal life. In fact, he wasn't quite sure how much money had accumulated in his accounts over the years, and he couldn't care less if it would all suddenly evaporate. Money simply was of no importance to Darth Vader. In his heart, he had never understood the need to accumulate wealth that drove other sentient beings. His own needs were very different. As a child, he wanted to see, to learn, to understand. Even then, he had not understood greed, although he grew up surrounded by it. 

He folded his few clothes, including the life support suit, and placed them in a pile on the bed. The suits doubled as flight suits, and somehow he doubted quartermaster's stocked those in his size. Pilots were not supposed to be two meters tall. 

Last, he took the small box out of the closet, idly wondering what it contained. He didn't even remember putting it there. Well, he probably hadn't. His belongings had been brought here for him, when he assumed command of the fleet. Somebody must have put it in the closet then, together with his other things, and it had set there ever since. He never looked into the closet himself; the 2-1B usually laid out his clothes for him. 

Curious, he sat down on the bed and opened the box. It did not contain much. A holo cube. A few letters, written on thick paper yellowed with age. 

With trembling hands, Darth Vader took the letters out, unfolding them carefully in order not to break the brittle material. Tears stung his eyes as he recognized the handwriting he had not seen in years. It was his wife's. Padmé. Queen Amidala of the Naboo, but he preferred to think of her as Padmé, the young peasant girl who had walked into Watto's shop so many years ago looking for spare parts. He had fallen in love with her the moment he saw her, although she was half again his age. 

_ "Are you an angel?" _

"You're a funny little boy." 

Vader folded the letters again. He did not need to read them again. Although he had not read them in years, he still knew them by heart. They were the letters Padmé had written to him during his Jedi training on Coruscant. Why had he kept them? Somehow, they had been with him through all the years since then, even though they were at the back of the closet, in an old box. But they were there. They were still there. Somehow, it was comforting. It was as if a part of Padmé was still with him. 

Beneath the letters, there was another item wrapped in a piece of cloth. Small, easy to overlook. Vader took it from the box, his hands shaking worse than ever. He unfolded the cloth and found what he dreaded to find inside. The japor snippet he had carved for Padmé. His first gift to her. It, too, was darkened with age. A sob escaped his throat as he remembered the last time he had seen it, shortly after the fateful duel with Kenobi. He was still in the care of the healers then, the suit was being constructed for him. 

_ "I have sad news for you, my servant. Your wife, the Queen Amidala of Naboo, was killed today." _

Numb... he didn't feel. Not like he should. 

"How? What happened?" His voice was as flat as his emotions. 

"I should not... you need your rest, my friend." So concerned about him... if he was so concerned, why did Palpatine bring him the news in the first place? 

"I need to know!" Agony... now he was feeling something, and he wanted it to stop. He wanted it to never stop. Padmé, his angel, gone. He would never see her again, never hold her again. 

"Your teacher... your former master, Obi-Wan Kenobi. I am afraid he has gone quite mad..." 

Now Vader wondered if that, too, had been a lie. Back then, he had believed Palpatine. He had believed that Obi-Wan had murdered his wife, and in retaliation, had helped Palpatine wipe out the Jedi. His hatred had made him the perfect weapon for the Emperor. 

He fought back more tears, his fingers closing over the japor snippet. Another lie. He could sense the truth now. Obi-Wan could not have harmed Padmé anymore than he himself could. No, her death came by one of Palpatine's agents. Another tie to his past life severed, another obstacle removed on his way to the Dark Side. 

Slowly, Vader opened his hand again. The leather strap was dry and brittle, but it would keep until he could replace it. He tied the japor snippet around his neck, picked up his clothes and the toolbox and left. There was nothing else here for him. 

He didn't notice the 2-1B unit activate when he left. 

* * *

Wrenga Jixton was bored nearly to tears. Hanging around in dingy bars was about the only thing he could do between jobs without attracting too much attention. That, and honing his skills in private. Unfortunately, his employer had not needed his special talents in several weeks now, and Jix was starting to wonder if the Dark Lord had forgotten about their little arrangement. He was also running low on cash. Vader had always paid him well in the past, but Jixton did not believe in saving accounts. 

Maybe I should call and ask him what's up, Jix thought. Yeah, and, by the way, Uncle Dee, your favorite nephew could use a little pocket money. That would go over well, thank you very much. 

No, he needed a better approach. But it certainly would not hurt to have a look at Vader's new security system before he came back from off-planet. Just to keep in practice, of course. And he could get a lot of practice from Vader's palace. After all, Vader kept the security system state of the art ever since Jixton had managed to get past it for the first time. It had developed into a game between them; no matter how hard Jixton tried, he could never sneak up on Vader himself. And no matter how tight security was in the palace, Vader could never keep Jixton out. 

He would go tomorrow, Jixton decided and ordered another drink, his second of the evening. He was not the kind of man to drink heavily or regularly, or he would not survive long in his line of business. And he liked to be completely sober before he tackled Darth Vader's palace. No use in risking his perfect record. 

* * *

To be continued 


	10. Traitor

**Force of Destiny**

** Summary: **   
An accident reveals an old deception, and Darth Vader must make a decision that will change not only his life. 

* * *

** Chapter 9 **

Darth Vader entered sickbay with the idea of retrieving his lightsaber as well as whatever remained of his suit in mind. He had begun to miss his weapon to the point that he felt almost naked without it. A silly notion, true, especially since with his powers he did not really need a weapon, but the fact remained that he missed its comfortable weight dangling from his belt. He had not been without a lightsaber ever since he built his first training saber as a young Padawan. And he needed at least his helmet, armor and respirator unit to complete his spare suit so he could use it as a flightsuit. Of course, he would have to make some modifications - he did not need the respirator to breathe for him anymore - but an inquiry to quartermaster's had confirmed that they indeed had no flightsuits in his size. Being tall wasn't always an advantage. 

"Well, look who decided to pay me a visit!" Dr. Hanley's sarcastic voice cut into his thoughts. Vader's eyes narrowed. The man had saved his life, no, had given him his life back, so Vader supposed he should be grateful. But Hanley was also an arrogant, irritating sonofabitch. His voice, his mannerisms, his mere presence grated on Vader's nerves. 

"I wonder what brings you here, Lord Vader", Hanley continued. "It cannot be concern for you health, or you wouldn't have left in the first place." 

"I have neither the time nor the patience for your games, Doctor", Vader rumbled. "Give me my lightsaber and my suit." 

"After I've examined you, Mylord. You may not give a damn about your health, but at least allow me to do my job properly." 

Vader's patience was wearing thin. "You will give me my suit and lightsaber", he intoned, using the Force to bend Hanley's will to his own. 

Hanley whipped a scanner out and pointed it at Vader. "As I said, after I've examined you. Now take your jacket off, please, and sit down." 

Vader heaved a frustrated sigh. I must be out of practice, he mused. He considered his options. He could kill the fool, and waste his time searching sickbay for his lightsaber and suit. Or he could allow the examination, which would probably take less time and get Hanley off his back just as effectively. Or he could try again. 

"You will give me my suit and lightsaber", he said once more, adding even more Force. 

"I will give you your suit and lightsaber", Hanley repeated after him, "after I've examined you." 

Vader rolled his eyes. What was it with this man? Why couldn't he get through to Hanley? 

Hanley's lips twitched in amusement. "I should tell you, Mylord, that the Jedi mind trick does not work on me. I've taken certain precautions." 

"You..." Vader was speechless, but it lasted only a few seconds. "What precautions?" Removing his uniform jacket, he sat on he examination table Hanley indicated. He knew when he had lost. 

"Do you really expect me to tell you? If I did, you might find a way around it, and I have to come up with something new." He ran the medscanner over Vader's upper body. "Your scan looks good. Tell me, did you have any more headaches or dizzy spells?" 

"No", Vader answered in a gruff manner. The thought that Hanley, Force- blind as he was, had found a way to counteract the mind trick irritated him to no end. 

"Humph. I see no reason to keep you here. You're recuperating nicely, so I'm clearing you for light duty. That means no piloting, no sports, no command decisions, and I want to see you again in a week." 

Vader froze. "I do believe you have taken leave of your senses, Doctor Hanley", he declared in a cold voice. How dare Hanley? No piloting hurt, but he understood the reasoning behind that, as well as the "no sports", but taking command of his ship away from him was an unbearable affront! 

Hanley put the scanner away and shook his head. "Lord Vader, you had a major change in your life only a few days ago", he began, silently adding 'and a nervous breakdown the crew will be talking about for months'. 

"Give yourself time to come to terms with it." He looked straight into Darth Vader's eyes. "If it were anyone else but you, I would keep them here, under observation. But I can't do that, can I? You would simply walk out of here again and do whatever you damn well want to. So I'm asking you to at least take it easy for a while. I'm sure the admiral can muddle through without you. And by the way, I am going to inform him of my decision, and I trust you not to get him into trouble with High Command by ignoring it. When it comes to medical decisions, I am the highest authority on board, Mylord." 

Vader glared at him. Hanley was right; once his decision was on record, there was nothing even he, Lord Darth Vader, could do about it. He should have killed the fool when he had the chance. No command decisions for a week, that was humiliating. 

"My judgement is not off, Doctor", he growled in a low, menacing tone. 

"Really? Then please tell me why you left sickbay. Or why you worked all day yesterday without eating anything before late afternoon. Physical work, I might add, for which you are not fit yet", Hanley retaliated. 

"I had my reasons", Vader snapped back. 

"And I have mine. My decision is final, Lord Vader, whether you like it or not." 

With that, Hanley turned and left Vader to retrieve his things from where he had stored them. Vader had barely closed his jacket again when Hanley returned and handed him the weapon and the sorry remains of his life support suit. The Sithlord took them and left without a further word. 

As soon as he was gone, Hanley took the small noise generator out of his ear and shut it off; he would pay for using it for the next couple of days, but the high-pitched wail it emitted had been just irritating enough to cut through Vader's attempt at clogging his mind. The trickiest part had been to find a setting that was loud enough to keep him alert, but not so loud that Vader would hear it. That would have spoiled the effect immensely. 

* * *

Vader stalked into his new quarters, seething. He would have slammed the door shut behind him, even if it was a childish, immature thing to do, but unfortunately, the automatic door closed behind him with barely a whisper. The Sithlord dropped his burden onto the sofa and went on to the viewport. Frustrated, he slammed his fist into the transparisteel. Out of the command structure for a week, maybe longer. It was... debasing. Insulting. Vader pounded the viewport again. And again. His cybernetic hand did not make a dent in the surface. Neither did the artificial skin that covered the hand sustain any damage. Frustrated, Vader leaned his forehead against the cold, smooth surface of the viewport. Even the beauty of the stars did nothing to soothe the rage he felt. 

Calm, he told himself. Get yourself under control. There is nothing you can do about it, and taking out your frustration on a window will only prove Hanley right. 

Taking deep breaths, Darth was finally able to calm himself enough to sit down at his desk and call the bridge. 

Piett appeared on the screen almost immediately, bowing respectfully to him. 

"I believe Dr. Hanley has already informed you, Admiral?" Vader inquired. The look on Piett's face gave him the answer; to his credit, the admiral managed to look uncomfortable, and to keep any pity out of his features. 

"Yes, Mylord. Although I must confess I have no idea what light duty means in your case, Sir." 

Vader leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes. "Probably reading up on reports and technical journals." He shrugged. "I shall be in my quarters, Piett. Vader out." He leaned forward to cut the connection. 

* * *

A crew member in gray coveralls hurriedly walked the length of the Executor's bridge toward the large front viewport where Admiral Piett stood, patiently regarding the unmoving stars. 

"Admiral, you wished to be notified of all outgoing transmissions", he whispered urgently. 

Piett turned around to face him. 

"You picked something up, Stevens?" 

"Yes, Admiral. An encrypted message." 

"Were you able to decode it?" 

Stevens shook his head. "Not yet, Sir", he replied. "It's not a code the Fleet uses. It's no Alliance code, either." Stevens fidgeted. It did not escape Piett's notice. 

"There is something else, Stevens?" 

"Yes, Sir. Although the transmission was short, we were able to track its origin." 

"And?" Piett arched his eyebrows. 

"It came from Lord Vader's quarters, Sir." 

The admiral's eyes narrowed. Who would Lord Vader contact in a code unknown to the Fleet? It could not be the Rebel Alliance, unless Lord Vader had knowledge of a code that the Imperial Fleet had not been able to identify yet. Highly unlikely. His transmissions to the Emperor were not encrypted. And why should he contact his Majesty now, of all times? Something wasn't right here. Unless... 

"His old or his new quarters, Stevens?" Piett asked. 

"His old quarters, Admiral." 

Piett strode over to the communications console and quickly dialed Lord Vader's new quarters. The Sith Lord answered almost immediately; he apparently had not left his desk since his call a few minutes earlier. 

"Yes, Piett, what is it?" 

"Mylord, I have been monitoring outgoing communications during the past days." He did not have to add 'since your accident'. "An encrypted signal was sent just now from your old quarters." 

"But there is no-one..." Vader paused. Piett could almost see the thoughts form behind his forehead. "The 2-1B. I should have expected something like it", he muttered, almost to himself. Hanley was correct - his judgment was off, or he would have seen it immediately. The droid had to have a special programming. It had been with him ever since he sustained the injuries in the duel with Obi-Wan, and in all those years, had never found the true reason for his respiratory problems. Because it already knew. Because it was programmed to keep him like that - helpless, and dependent on machinery to keep him alive. Vader slammed his fist on the desk, hard. He had been such a fool! Then he addressed Piett again. 

"Assemble a team, Admiral. I want that droid captured. It is not to be destroyed." 

"Yes, Mylord. Shall I have its memory and programming downloaded and analyzed, Sir?" 

Vader allowed himself a thin smile. "You are reading my mind again, Piett. Vader out." With that, he cut the connection. 

On the bridge, Piett turned to Stevens. "You heard him, Stevens." 

"Yes, Sir." Stevens saluted smartly and hurried away. 

* * *

Luke Skywalker landed his X-Wing next to the narrow path that led to Obi-Wan Kenobi's house on Tattooine. The Millenium Falcon was already there, disguised under a camouflage tarp. The twin suns had risen only a few hours ago, but already the air over the desert was hot enough to waver and produce mirages. And it would get hotter still. Luke climbed out of the cockpit and helped R2-D2 to disembark; the little droid twittered his excitement. 

Leia came running down the path, calling his name, with Chewbacca following close. The Wookiee roared his own greeting, and Luke waved to him. 

"Luke, I thought you would never come", Leia greeted him and pulled him into a tight embrace. 

"I told you I would, Leia", Luke replied calmly, returning her embrace. What was frightening her so? It could not be the rescue mission; Leia had been through worse, and it had never fazed her. Luke always thought of her as the strongest of their group, never afraid to do what needed to be done. "Is Lando in Jabba's palace already?" 

"Yes. He's got work as a guard." 

Luke placed his hands on her shoulders, trying to reassure her. 

"What is it, Leia?" he murmured. 

"I... it's nothing", she mumbled. "Just nervous." She could not talk about this, not to Luke. She still had the strange feeling that somehow, Luke was going to betray her trust. 

Luke pulled her closer again, stroking her long tresses. "It's going to be alright, Leia. We're going to get Han out of there, you'll see", he whispered into her hair. "In a few days, we can start phase two of the plan, and then it won't be long, I promise." 

"I know. I just wish it were over. I can't shake the feeling that something is going to happen." 

* * *

Stevens led a group of four Stormtroopers into Lord Vader's old quarters. The 2-1B unit looked up and stared at them out of cold optical sensors, assessing the situation with impeccable logic. 

"You are too late. Lord Vader's treason has been reported", it declared, and activated its self-destruct mechanism. It exploded seconds later, the power of the blast knocking the men off their feet. 

* * *

Piett straightened his uniform jacket before entering Lord Vader's apartment. It was a nervous gesture; he had failed his superior, and he would have to bear the consequences. 

Vader was pacing the room, hands clasped, behind his back, when Piett entered. 

"Your report, Admiral?" he questioned sharply. 

"Mylord, the droid self-destructed when my men entered. I failed you. I wish to apologize." 

Damn, Vader thought. I should have known. Loud, he said: "It was not your fault, Piett. I should have anticipated this." 

"Mylord...", Piett began, but Vader cut him short: "No, Admiral. Don't try to take the blame." He picked up his pacing again. "You know, I believe Hanley is right. My judgment is off, or I would have seen this. That droid was with me for many years. It must have been programmed to... overlook certain things." 

"Lord Vader, nobody can expect you to..." 

"... be thinking straight? I did, Piett, and that was my first error. My second was to let things slide. If it was not for your initiative, I would not even know about the current situation." Piett blushed slightly at the unexpected praise. 

"I... uh... thank you, Mylord." 

Vader dismissed his gratitude with a wave of his hand. 

"Sir, if I may...", Piett began and cleared his throat. Vader looked at him and nodded; what other surprised did the Admiral have in store for him? 

"The droid did say something before it self-destructed. Its exact words were 'you are too late. Lord Vader's treason has been reported'." 

"I see", Vader replied and turned to look at the stars visible through the viewport. 'So I am a traitor now?' he thought. 'We shall see about that, my Master. We shall see about that.' 

"Thank you, Admiral. That will be all", he said softly. Piett bowed in acknowledgment and left the Dark Lord to his musings. 

"We shall see", Vader whispered. 

* * *

To be continued 


	11. Flight

**Force of Destiny**

** Summary: **   
An accident reveals an old deception, and Darth Vader must make a decision that will change not only his life. 

* * *

**Chapter 10**

Contrary to popular believe, the night was not the best time for breaking and entering on Coruscant. The planet-wide city never truly slept, but its human and alien inhabitants tended to be more alert, watch out more for potential trouble during the night than in the daylight hours. Old instincts die hard. 

And that was why Wrenga Jixton lowered himself into the sewers not two city blocks away from Darth Vader's palace in broad daylight. Wearing brightly colored coveralls, high boots and a tool belt, he looked like just another maintenance worker. None of the passers-by gave him a second glance; in the midst of the crowd going about their daily business, he was as good as invisible. 

The sewer was nearly four meters across, with a narrow walkway on either side. Glowrods spaced on the walls every few meters gave an eerie light. Small noises, amplified and distorted beyond recognition by the strange acoustics of the underground sewers, reached Jixton's ears, adding to the spooky atmosphere. A darkish, stinking sludge flowed between the walkways; Jix took care not to slip on the slick stones and fall into the smelly goo. He would have to step into it early enough. 

Jixton consulted his map and set out in the direction of Vader's palace. After a few dozen meters he came to an intersection and turned left. A rat scurried away and vanished into a small crack in the stones. 

* * *

Half a galaxy away, Darth Vader paced his luxurious quarters on board the Executor. 

So I am a traitor now? he thought darkly. I shall give you treason, my Master! You lied to me when you told me Obi-Wan killed my wife. You made me murder my friends. Thanks to you, I never saw my son grow up. You wanted me to kill my own child, you bastard! You turned me into a monster. You kept me under your thumb for more than half my years. Not anymore! 

Turning on his heel, Vader strode to the closet and flung it open with enough force to almost shatter its door. Grabbing the standard-issue duffel bag from the shelf, he started to stuff clothes into it haphazardly before realizing he had no means to leave the ship. He needed a transport first. And he needed a plan. Running off half-cocked and angry would only get him killed before he accomplished anything. 

Returning to his desk, Vader sat down and called up the ship's maintenance roster, looking for a small transport he could use to escape. A standard TIE would be of no use. The small fighters had no hyperspace capability. His personal TIE had, but it was too easily recognizable. The Avengers were out of the question for obvious reasons. No, he needed something a bit larger. Drumming his fingers on the desk, he scrolled down the list until he found the most likely candidate. A Lambda class shuttle, small enough to be flown by a single pilot, fast enough to escape into hyperspace before the TIEs that would undoubtedly be sent after him could catch up to him, and common enough not to draw too much attention. Vader looked up which shuttle was currently kept fueled and ready for launch. The Tydirium. She would be his means of escape. 

But where to go? He could not take Palpatine on all by himself, as much as he wanted to. The tyrant was too well protected, and would be able to sense his ex-servant as soon as entered the Coruscant system. He would be dead before he even reached the planet if he was so foolhardy to try this alone. 

No, he had to get help. The obvious solution was to join the Rebel Alliance. But would they take him? Darth Vader had no illusions about how the Alliance members saw him; a ruthless killer, dangerous and uncontrollable. Most likely he would be shot on sight, before he had a chance to explain himself. Vader leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. How to get out of this dilemma? Luke... but Luke hated him. His son, his own child. More so, the boy would never trust him. Too much stood between them. He had killed Obi-Wan. Had tortured the Princess. Taken Luke's hand. Frozen his best friend in carbonite and given him to the bounty hunter, Fett. 

Of course, Luke would be able to sense his true intentions, but would he want to touch his mind? And what about the others? Even if Luke spoke for him, and that was a big if, they would probably overrule him. No, he needed... 

Vader's eyes flew open when the doorbell chimed. 

"Come in", he called, belatedly remembering the open closet and the half-packed bag in front of it. With a flick of his hand, he used the Force to push the bag into the closet and slam the door shut just as a nervous looking Admiral Piett entered his quarters. 

* * *

"That's him", Dana whispered to his partner Lee, pointing with his chin to a nondescript looking communications officer in the corridor. "You know the drill." 

Lee nodded and flexed the muscles bulging under his black uniform. At nearly two meters and with a built to match, most people thought him to be your typical brainless bully. They were mistaken. Lee possessed a quick mind and a highly developed sense of honor. This combination made him an excellent trooper, and one of the best for General Veers' special assignment. Now he picked up his usually unhurried pace until he was close enough to shove his target into the wall. 

"Hey! Watch it, man!" the smaller man cried out when he found himself pushed against a bulkhead. 

"What did you just say?" Lee glowered at the smaller man. His target gulped. 

"N... nothing." 

Damn, Lee thought. That was not the reaction he had hoped for. He had hoped for anger; his target outranked him and could demand respect. Never mind, he had to go through with the plan. Roughly, he pulled the smaller man up by his collar. 

"No-one calls me clumsy", he growled. 

"B... but I didn't..." The target's eyes darted left, then right, searching for an escape route. There was none. 

"Now you're calling me a liar?" Lee roared, pushing the man against the wall. From the corner of his eye he could see two stormtroopers coming in their direction, weapons at the ready. Finally! 

"What is going on here?" the first demanded. "You are both under arrest", the second added, pointing his blaster rifle at Lee. 

"That... that won't be necessary", the communications officer piped up. "It was only a misunderstanding. I am not filing charges against the trooper." 

"You? File charges against me?" Lee bellowed. "You push me, call me clumsy and a liar, and now you try to blame me?" 

"Enough!" One of the troopers stepped between the two men, jabbing his rifle into Lee's ribcage. The other called for backup. 

"You can both cool off in the brig until we sort this thing out." 

Lee suppressed a grin; mission accomplished. 

* * *

Similar scenes played themselves out on different locations on board the Executor, until Veers' men had secured all II agents that Piett had identified. There were only minor injuries, a few bruises here, a dislocated jaw there. All in all, it was a surprisingly non-violent mission. 

* * *

Deep down in Coruscant's sewers, a stray glimmer of light caught Wrenga Jixton's attention. The ex-combat instructor ducked into a niche in the sewer's wall, breathing as shallowly as possible. Among the many tiny sounds of the sewers he could now make out human voices. Three, possibly four men, and they were already less then twenty meters away, around the next corner. 

Sith... they were between him and Vader's palace, and they were coming in his direction. There was no way they could miss him went they went past him. Unless... holding his breath and scrunching up his face against the unbelievable stench, Jixton pulled his blaster, slid into the blackish goo and smeared the smelly mass liberally over his coveralls. He nearly gagged at the stench, but managed to keep still. A few seconds later, a party of three human men passed not two feet above him; Jixton held his breath again, not just because of the smell. His face he pressed against the wall for additional cover. When the men had passed, he risked a glance, but could only see their boots. Standard issue army boots, not like the ones worn by maintenance workers. Like he was wearing now. These men were soldiers. 

As soon as the three had turned the next corner, Jixton straightened up and soundlessly hoisted himself on the walkway. He could hardly believe his luck. He had been sure the three must spot him, but they had not. The question was why. They must have accomplished their mission and were on their way out, their defenses relaxed. Amateur behavior like that could get you killed in no time; Jixton at least knew better than that. 

But what kind of job would bring three soldiers into the sewers close to Vader's palace? What kind of kreth had the Dark Lord gotten himself into this time? Jixton shed his soiled coveralls and continued on his way, determined to find out what kind of trouble his employer was in. Not that he particularly liked Vader. Nope. Not at all. But he paid well, and they had an agreement. Jixton was well aware that he needed Vader to keep his friends on Aribus safe, and Vader needed an independent agent who could think on his feet, and so they put up with each other despite their differences. Friendship didn't even enter into it. Or so Jixton told himself. Some days, he even believed it. 

* * *

Carefully, Jixton crept closer to the massive gate that closed off the pipe coming from Vader's palace. The sewer here was dry; nobody was home but the droids, and they didn't produce waste. The gate was closed and locked, but a closer look told Jix that it had been opened recently. Very recently. Taking out one of his electronic gadgets, he cracked the code on the gate and slipped through. No alarm had been sounded so far. A few more steps brought him to a power line and a communications link that connected the palace to the public comm service. Jixton looked the gray box over. It, too, had been opened, and a small device added. The agent whistled through his teeth. 

"Now who would dare to bug Darth Vader's commlink?" he asked no-one in particular. Jixton could think of only two people who would. One was Prince Xizor, infamous leader of Black Sun. The other, Palpatine. And Xizor's goons didn't wear the kind of military boots Jixton had seen. "Guess I better call my boss and tell him he's in trouble", Jixton murmured. 

* * *

Some time earlier on the Executor's bridge, an officer called out to Admiral Piett. 

"Incoming Message, Sir." 

Piett turned around to face the work pit. 

"Sir, it's from the Emperor himself..." the man said in awe. "We're being recalled to Coruscant." 

A shiver ran down Piett's spine. That was what he had dreaded for the past days. He nodded. "Carry on, Lieutenant. I will inform Lord Vader", he declared, and left the bridge. 

* * *

Vader swiveled his chair around to face the Admiral. Piett cleared his throat, unable to look directly at Vader. 

"What is it, Admiral?" the Sith asked. 

"Mylord, we have received new orders from the Emperor", Piett began. "We are to return to Coruscant immediately." 

"I see." Vader took the news calmly. 

"Your orders, Mylord?" 

Vader stood and walked over to the viewport, looking at the stars. He wished he had more time to prepare. He wished it had not come to this. 

"Mylord?" 

"Set course for Coruscant, Piett. Best available speed." 

"But... Sir..." Piett stuttered. 

"Is there anything else, Admiral?" Vader asked, still seemingly calm. 

"No, Mylord", Piett replied. He turned to leave when the comm unit beeped. Vader frowned at the unit, but moved to take the call. 

"Yes?" 

"Lord Vader, incoming call for you, audio only." 

Who would call him on board his ship? "Put it through", Darth Vader commanded. 

"Hey, Uncle Dee", a slightly distorted voice came from the speaker. 

"Jix", Vader acknowledged. "You are not supposed to call me here." 

"I'm not supposed to drop in unannounced, either. Did that anyway", Jixton cheerfully replied. 

"So, you have called me simply to tell me that you have once again circumvented my security system?" Vader purred. The nerve of the man! 

"Ah, come on, Uncle, you know me better than that. No, I called to ask if you had called the repairmen. They were pretty filthy specimen, if you take my meaning. Left some bugs behind." 

"I see. And as a dutiful nephew, you decided to inform me of the... infestation." 

"You got it, Uncle. Ah, and the company they belong to has Imperial contracts, if you catch my drift." 

So... the Emperor had bugged his palace. That was not unexpected. Vader crossed his arms over his chest. 

"Thank you, Jix", he finally said. "And incidentally, you are fired." Vader cut the connection before Jixton could mouth a protest. 

Vader faced Piett again. "My... nephew", he explained. "He is somewhat of an embarrassment sometimes." 

Piett blinked. "I... understand, Mylord." With that, the Admiral turned and fled the Sithlord's quarters. Vader was left alone again to contemplate his next actions. 

* * *

Half an hour later, Darth Vader, Lord of the Sith, Jedi Knight, crept down the Executor's corridors toward the main hangar, duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He carefully avoided as many of the ship's crew as he could; those he could not avoid never remembered meeting him in the hallways. Still, Vader heaved a sigh of relief when he reached his destination. The Tydirium was indeed fueled and ready for launch. He boarded her, and lifted off as quickly as possible, even foregoing the pre-flight check. This time, he had to trust the engineers to keep the shuttle in top shape. There simply was no time to be wasted, and no margin for error. The Executor would soon enter hyperspace, and his window for escape would be lost. Setting a course that would take him away from the giant ship, Darth Vader gunned the small shuttle's engines. 

* * *

"Admiral, a shuttle just launched from the main hangar", a petty officer at CommScan announced. 

"Track them", Captain Durreen ordered automatically before Admiral Piett could reply. "Send four TIE's after them." 

"Belay that order", Piett cut in. Durreen gave him a bewildered look. 

"But, Sir..." 

"We have orders from the Emperor himself, Captain. We must not waste his time", Piett explained patiently. 

"Uh... yes, Sir." For a moment, Durreen wondered if Piett had gone as crazy as Vader. 

"Good." Piett turned back to the viewscreen and regarded the stars. Good luck, Mylord, he thought. You are going to need it. 

* * *

To be continued 


	12. A Question Of Loyalty

**Force of Destiny**

** Summary: **   
An accident reveals an old deception, and Darth Vader must make a decision that will change not only his life. 

* * *

** Chapter 11 **

A Question of Loyalty 

Darth Vader punched in the coordinates of his first destination. So far, no-one was following him. Piett must be holding them back. Vader hoped the Admiral would not have a mutiny on his hands as a result of his actions. Dumb thing to do anyway. Vader sighed. There was only one way he could repay Piett for his help. He simply had to succeed. Resolutely, Vader pulled back the lever that activated the hyperdrive. 

* * *

Piett nodded to himself when the small speck that was the shuttle Tydirium vanished from the viewscreen in a flash of light. There was no question in his mind as to who was piloting the shuttle; no-one had better reason to desert at this time than Lord Vader. 

The admiral turned to face Captain Durreen. 

"How long until we reach Coruscant?" he queried. 

"Approximately four days at present speed, Admiral." 

"Very well. I shall be in my quarters. You have the bridge, Captain." 

Piett slowly left the Executor's bridge without looking back. Veers, who had been waiting nearby, followed him like a shadow. 

* * *

"You are certain Lord Vader took the shuttle?" Veers asked his friend when they reached Piett's quarters. The Admiral gave him an amused look. 

"I know Lord Vader, Max. He would not walk right into death anymore than you or I." 

Piett palmed the door to his quarters open, and both officers entered. 

"So, what do you think he will be doing now?" Veers inquired as soon as the door had closed behind them. 

Piett shrugged. "I believe he's going to try and join the Rebel Alliance. But I don't know how he's going to accomplish that." 

Veers chuckled. "What? You don't think they would welcome him with open arms?" He tried to picture a smiling Leia Organa greeting Lord Vader with a hug and failed miserably. 

Piett did not listen; a small item sitting on his desk had caught his attention. He did not remember leaving a holocube there. Swiftly, he crossed the distance to his desk and picked up the cube. 

"Maybe we'll find out soon", he muttered and activated the cube. 

A small holographic image of Lord Vader appeared. 

"Greetings, Admiral", the recording said. "When you play this message, I will already have left the ship." The image smiled slightly. "I believe that General Veers is also present. This message is for both of you." 

Piett and Veers looked at each other. 

"Gentlemen, recent events made me think about my life, and I realized that I have made grave mistakes. I hope it is not too late to remedy them", Vader continued, serious again. "For more than twenty years, I have been loyal to the Emperor. A misplaced loyalty, as it turned out. Palpatine has kept me in a state dependent on medical help for all this time, and he will certainly not allow me to live now that I am healed. My only choice now is to leave the Empire. My only place to go will be the Rebel Alliance, if they'll have me." 

Vader paused again before continuing: "My only regret is that I have to leave this ship and her crew behind. Gentlemen, the Executor is the finest ship in any fleet, and if there is one thing I do not regret about my service to the Emperor, it is serving with you. I hope we shall never meet again, because if we do, it will be on different sides of the battlefield. Vader out." 

The image vanished in a swirl of colors. 

Veers released a breath he did not remember holding. 

"He's really joining the Alliance...", he whispered. 

"Did you have any doubt about it?" Piett plopped down on the sofa, took his cap off and threw it on the table. "It's not like he has much of a choice." 

Veers raised his eyebrows. "Do we?" he asked. "As you said, we know too much. His majesty will have us executed as soon as we reach Coruscant." 

Piett leaned back on the sofa. "Who says we're going to Coruscant?" he asked lightly. 

A thin smile played over Veers' features. "Our present course might just indicate that. Unless you plan to follow in Lord Vader's footsteps and steal a shuttle." 

The admiral gazed at the ceiling and folded his hands in his lap. "Not... exactly", he ventured. "I wasn't planning on leaving my ship behind, you know." 

Veers felt his jaw drop. "You... you... what?" he sputtered. "You're crazy!" 

"Not at all. Just realistic", Piett answered calmly. "Look at our choices. We can go to Coruscant and be executed. We can jump ship and probably be shot down before we reach hyperspace." He raised a hand to silence Veers' protest. "If we leave, there will be a squad of TIEs after us before we're clear of the hangar, and while we're both fair pilots, we're no match for our fighter pilots." 

Veers shook his head. Tomas must have taken leave of his senses. There was no other explanation for this outrageous plan. "And if you believe that you can persuade a quarter million men to defect, you've gone nuts, Tomas", he declared. 

"Oh, but I don't, Max. I expect at least fifty thousand to stay loyal to the Emperor, and another forty thousand to pretend to because they fear for their loved ones on the core worlds. The rest I believe will feel as we do, once they know the whole truth" 

Veers stared at him, unbelieving. "You can't be serious." 

Piett just smiled. "And that coming from the man who said crew morale was low enough for fights to be breaking out any time." He ran his hands through his thinning hair. "We should make the announcement soon. The men must hear the truth and make their own decision." 

"Aren't you afraid they'll shoot us?" 

Piett smiled at his friend. "Look at it this way, Max: If they do, at least it will be over quickly." 

Veers snorted. "Always look at the bright side of life, huh?" 

"Always, my friend", Piett nodded. He got up and walked to his desk. Switching on the comm unit, he dialed the bridge. Captain Durreen answered the call almost immediately. 

"Yes, Admiral?" 

"Captain, inform all hands that there will be an announcement at 14:00 hours. Attendance is mandatory for all off-duty personnel. On-duty personnel will receive it through the ship's public address system, both audio and video." 

"Yes, Admiral. Sir, we have another incoming call for Lord Vader. The man claims to be his nephew." 

"Interesting. Patch him through to my quarters." 

Piett waited for the connection to be established. 

"Jix, is it not?" he queried. 

"Who are you?" the voice on the other end of the line asked. 

"This is Admiral Piett speaking." 

"Let me talk to Lord Vader", the man demanded curtly. 

"I'm afraid that is not possible, Sir. Lord Vader is not available at this time." 

"Listen, you better get the tin can on the line, Mister..." 

Piett's eyebrows shot up at Jix' descriptive insult. The man truly had some nerve. That, or a death wish. "You do not understand, Mister Jix. Lord Vader is not on board this vessel anymore." 

Stunned silence answered him. It took Jixton almost a minute to recover from this. 

"Not on board?" he echoed. 

"Exactly", Piett confirmed. "Lord Vader has left the ship." 

"Sith...", Jix exclaimed. "What kind of kreth has he gotten himself into?" 

"I am sorry, Mr. Jix, but I prefer not to answer that question over the radio." 

Jix thought about that for a while. Vader must be in deep trouble. And he could not trust those fleet clowns to get him out of it again. 

"Alright", he finally said. "Give me some coordinates, and I'll meet you there." 

Piett exchanged a glance with Veers; the General shrugged. "Your call", he mouthed. 

* * *

Padmé Naberrie was fuming. Her small fleet of three ships should have been underway to Sullust again for a whole day; instead, they were sitting on Nar Shaddaa waiting for repairs to one of the hyperdrives being completed. It was a miracle the drive had not given out earlier; although well maintained, the ships were old, positively ancient, and the way from Mon Calamari to Sullust was far even though they had taken the most direct route. If they had at least made it to Kothlis, or Bothawui, but no, they had to be stuck on a world ruled by Hutt crime lords. And this time, there would be no little boy risking his life in a pod race to help them. 

Thinking of the sweet, funny little boy who had grown into a heroic Jedi Knight made Padmé smile sadly. Anakin... if he had only lived to know his children. If only she had not given them away to be raised by friends. But the past was the past, and she had to take care of the present, and the future. 

"Yousa tinken of Annie again", a voice behind her spoke up. 

"Am I that obvious, Jar Jar?" she asked lightly. The Gungan had stayed with her through all those years, protecting his queen, as he claimed. Not that he was much of a bodyguard. 

"Only to yousa friends, yousa majesty", he answered. 

Padmé turned around to find him standing close behind her, smiling at her. 

"Annie would be so proud of yousa", he said. "Yousa doin' da right ting." 

Yes, Padmé thought. This time, we have to stop Palpatine for good. And if we can take down Vader as well, the better. That monster murdered my husband... 

* * *

Darth Vader dropped out of hyperspace to plot a new course. He was certain now that he was not being followed; for the past hours, he had been zigzagging in a random pattern. Now it was time to head for his next destination. He needed money, civilian clothes, and a few more things before he could set his plan in motion. What better place than Nar Shaddaa to get everything he required? And he had no time to waste. 

* * *

To be continued 


	13. Choices

**Force of Destiny**

** Summary: **   
An accident reveals an old deception, and Darth Vader must make a decision that will change not only his life. 

* * *

** Chapter 12 **

Choices 

* * *

Darth Vader spent the last hour in hyperspace before he reached the smuggler's moon rummaging through his meager possessions for something inconspicuous to wear. It was bad enough that he was flying a Lambda class shuttle; that particular model of Imperial ships had found its way into the private market years ago. But he certainly could not run around on a moon controlled by the Hutts wearing an Imperial uniform. That would be asking for trouble. The Hutts might not care too much about the Empire, but an obvious deserter could not hope for a warm welcome anywhere. 

Unfortunately, all he had was his old spare suit and the new uniforms. Not much choice there. Maybe he should cut the sleeves off one of the jackets? But no, it would still look like an Imperial uniform with the sleeves cut off. 

Frustrated, Vader dumped the contents of his bag on the main cabin's floor and looked through them again. Still nothing. 

Well, the clothes situation could not be helped before he reached Nar Shaddaa. The Executor was a big ship, but she didn't exactly have any shopping malls. And quartermaster's would have been pretty surprised if he had asked for civilian clothes. He picked up a jacket and stuffed it back into the bag with a sigh. His gaze fell on one of the sleeveless undershirts. It was lying on top of his suit. Mmhh.. this might be a possibility. Vader quickly changed into the tight black leather pants and white cotton undershirt and went to check his appearance in the fresher unit's mirror. A wide grin appeared on his face. Perfect! He looked like a smuggler in this get-up. His scars only added to the illusion. Of course, the shirt left much of his unnaturally pale skin exposed, but that would be no problem. Many long-time spacers were pale. People would simply assume that he had not spent much time on-planet for years. 

* * *

Admiral Piett checked his chronometer for the fifth time in as many minutes. 14:00 hours was drawing nearer, and with it the most important speech of his career. To say that the Admiral was nervous would be an understatement. It was more a full-blown case of stage fright. Too much depended on what he said and how he said it. His life depended on it - literally! 

General Veers watched his friend with a mixture of worry and amusement. "Are you sure you want to go through with this?" he asked. 

Piett smiled thinly. "You still believe I have lost my mind, Max?" 

Veers was spared an answer as an aide entered the small waiting room they were in. 

"Sir, the PA system has been set up, audio and visual", he announced. 

Piett acknowledged him with a nod. Taking deep breaths, he tried to calm himself. 

"It's time", Veers murmured. 

"Are your security teams prepared?" Piett asked. 

The General nodded. "I used everybody I can trust, Tomas. I don't know if it will be enough, though." 

* * *

The main mess hall was the largest single room on board the Executor, and yet it could hold only a small portion of the crew at any given time. Having only one mess hall in a ship that had an overall length of more than sixteen kilometers, and a crew of more than two hundred fifty thousand, would be a logistical impossibility. Therefore, the main mess hall was only one of several, though the largest, and like the others, doubled as a fully equipped auditorium. Now it was packed to capacity. 

Admiral Piett stepped up to the podium and let his gaze sweep over the assembled crew members. His nervousness evaporated like mist under the sun. 

"Gentlemen", he began, "this morning, Lord Vader has left the ship." Hidden microphones picked up and amplified Piett's voice, carrying it to every crewman and officer on board. Piett waited until the shocked murmurs had died down before continuing: "Some of you may know something of what has transpired in the last days. Some of you may have heard rumors. I have called this meeting to give you the truth." 

"Several days ago, Lord Vader was injured during a test flight with one of the new TIE Avengers. His injuries were not severe, but medical examination revealed that, without his knowledge or consent, Lord Vader has been implanted with transmitters that made it impossible for him to breathe unassisted." 

This time, Piett had to wait longer until the murmurs subsided. 

"Dr. Hanley removed the transmitters, and Lord Vader is now as healthy as any of you or I. However..." Piett raised his voice somewhat to be heard over the renewed commotion. "However, Lord Vader has been in this condition for more than twenty years. More than half his life. And it was done to him deliberately. It was done to one of the highest ranking and most influential men in the Empire." 

Piett paused again, letting his gaze sweep over the assembled men again. He was coming to the most crucial part of his speech. 

"We have proof that the Emperor himself ordered the transmitters implanted." 

One could have heard a needle drop in the silence that followed Piett's words. Inwardly, the Admiral heaved a sigh of relief. He got his men to listen to him; so far, no-one had started shooting at him. He hoped it would last. 

"For many years, I have served the Emperor. I was a loyal officer because I believed that Emperor Palpatine's reign is just and fair. After what I have learned in the past few days, I cannot believe that anymore." 

Piett slowly lifted his hands to his chest and removed the rank plaque from the front of his uniform. 

"Effective immediately, I resign my commission." With that, he broke the plaque in half and let the pieces drop to the floor. 

Piett took a step back and nodded to Veers, who stepped up to take his place at the podium. 

"Admiral Piett and I are more often in agreement than not. In this case, we are completely in agreement", he said, and to the astonishment of his troops, also removed his rank plaque and destroyed it. 

Joining Veers at the podium, Piett spoke again: "Before he left, Lord Vader recorded a message for General Veers and myself. We both feel that you should see it." 

Veers signaled a technician to play the holo cube Vader had left in Piett's quarters. Vader's image appeared on every screen on board, repeating the words Piett and Veers had already heard. When the message had ended, Piett took the stand again. 

"Gentlemen, you have heard Lord Vader's message. You know his predictions have a habit of coming true. I intend to prove him wrong this time." 

There was movement in the auditorium; somebody was trying to get closer to the front. 

"I am taking this ship to the Rebel Alliance, and I am inviting you to join me and General Veers in this. Those of you who do not wish to come with us, for whatever reasons, will be allowed to leave in peace. You have thirty hours to decide. At 20:00 hours tomorrow evening, we will meet up with other ships of the sector fleet. All personnel who stay on board after this time will be considered traitors and criminals by the current government. I might add that I consider Lord Vader's treatment by our government criminal. Thank you, gentlemen." 

With a bow, Piett stepped down again when a laser bolt whizzed past his ear. 

"Traitor!" somebody yelled. 

"Down!" Veers shouted, tackling Piett and pushing the Admiral out of harm's way. Then, all hell broke lose. 

* * *

"Greetings, exalted one. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Luke Skywalker, Jedi Knight and friend of Captain Solo. I know that you are powerful, mighty Jabba, and that your anger with Solo must be equally powerful. I seek an audience with your greatness to bargain for Solo's life. With your wisdom, I'm sure that we can work out an arrangement which would be mutually beneficial and allow us to avoid any unpleasant confrontation. As a token of my goodwill, I present to you a gift. These two droids. Both are hardworking, and will serve you well." 

On Luke's subtle signal, Leia turned off R2-D2's recorder. 

"What if he goes with it?" she asked. Luke smiled at her. 

"Trust me, Leia, he will not even consider it. Jabba will refuse any offer for Han's freedom, especially when it comes with a subtle threat. He is a gangster, not a diplomat. Freeing Han now, after he didn't pay Jabba back for several years, would be seen as a sign of weakness in Jabba's circles." 

Leia nodded slowly. She still had her reservations about Luke's plan. It seemed too complicated, and parts of it required too many of them to fall into Jabba's hands before everything could come together and they could rescue Han. There was no way they could be sure that everybody would be at the right place in the right time except what Luke's growing Force powers told him. Still, it was their best chance to save Han, and that was good enough for Leia. It had to be. 

R2 chattered excitedly. The little droid seemed to looking forward to his part. Luke patted his domed head affectionately. 

"I know you and 3PO will be doing fine, R2", he said. "Now let's see if 3PO has finished reprogramming the vaporizer, and then you two can be on your way to Jabba's palace. 

* * *

Nal Hutta was riding deep in the sky like a giant glittering jewel when Darth Vader landed his stolen shuttle in a docking bay on Nar Shaddaa's night side. 

The Dark Lord had little trouble persuading a bored customs and immigration officer that his papers were all in order. Thank the Force for weak-minded bureaucrats! After that, he returned to his ship to catch up on some sleep. It had been a long day for him already, and there was no point in trying to shop for everything he needed in the middle of the local night. 

Yawning, Vader settled into the pilot's seat, tilted it back as far as it would go, and propped his feet up on the console. His last thought before he drifted off to sleep was that somebody should have included beds in the shuttle's design. 

* * *

"The situation is under control", Captain Durreen reported over the commlink. He had surprised Piett by being one of the first officers to sever their ties to the Empire; Piett had expected the Captain to be among those still loyal to Emperor Palpatine. 

Immediately after his announcement, the Admiral had found himself being the target of several trigger-happy loyalists and was now in sickbay, nursing an ugly burn on his left arm. 

"If that's what you call control, I don't want to see what you call chaos", Dr. Hanley grumbled and finished dressing Piett's wound with a bacta pack. "More than a hundred men dead, four hundred injured, and of those, about thirty aren't going to make it." 

"We are at war, Doctor", Piett reminded him. "It could have been worse. I estimated a much higher number of casualties." 

"You estimated?" Hanley inquired in a cold voice. "Tell me, Admiral, did you estimate that an eighteen year old boy would be killed today?" He glared at Piett. "Did you estimate how many parents would lose their sons today, because of your actions? How many children lose their fathers?" 

Piett slid off the examination table and regarded the doctor calmly. "That is part of my job, doctor", he said. "I may not like it any more than you do, but I accepted it when I became an officer." He turned to leave. 

"Then how can you sleep at night?" Hanley called after him. 

"Actually, I expect to sleep well tonight. Because I know I made the right decision", Piett answered and left Hanley to deal with the aftermath. It was a lie. He knew the faces of the people he had killed today would haunt him tonight. And he had killed them, as surely as if he had pulled the trigger himself. 

* * *

Darth Vader woke up with a crick in his neck. Note to self, he thought, you're too old to sleep in the pilot's seat. Next time, steal a ship that has proper cabins with bunks in it. 

He stretched, trying to work out the kinks in his muscles, and mentally went through the list of things he needed to acquire. Cash first. Then clothes. Something to replace the brittle leather strap that held the Japor snippet. Sun tan lotion. He would need the highest UV protection factor he could find. Rations, a couple canteens, a few electronic parts. The latter to modify his life support suit. He would have time to work on it during his flight to his next destination. 

Humming an old tune under his breath, Vader locked the shuttle and set out for the port town to do his shopping. 

* * *

Vader expertly manipulated the bank droid into giving him access to one of his accounts without the proper chip card. He did not dare withdraw a large sum all in one, so he limited the first withdrawal to two hundred credits, requesting a replacement chip card at the same time. It was issued to him immediately. After that, he used the Force to erase the droid's memory of the last half hour. At the next bank, the Sith did not need to resort to such tactics. Using the chip card, he added another five thousand credits to the cash he was carrying, stuffing the credit chips into a small bag he had bought from part of the first withdrawal. A third bank yielded another eight thousand. 

Public transport brought him to a shopping district a few kilometers from the space port. He guessed that he would have at least two days before news of the access to his accounts reached Coruscant; more than enough time for him to buy all he needed and be a good distance from the planet. 

* * *

Four and a half frustrating hours and seventeen shops later, Darth Vader's mood was not so good anymore. He had tried on what seemed like an endless selection of shirts, jackets, cloaks, and pants, and still had not found anything that fit him. Sleeves tended to end somewhere between his elbows and wrists. Shoulder seams abraded the skin between neck and shoulder. Trouser legs made him look like a refugee from a flood disaster area. Did nobody on this Force-forsaken moon produce clothes for taller than average people? Vader asked himself as he entered the eighteenth shop. The shopkeeper, a disgustingly obese human, homed in on him immediately. 

"Chowbasa, chowbasa", the man panted in Hutteese, waddling towards Vader with outstretched arms. (Welcome, welcome) 

Vader answered in the same language: "Greetings to you also. I'm looking for some clothes." 

"Ah, you are in the right place, my friend. Here at Fat Bino's, we cater to those individuals lucky enough not to be average. Whether you're small or tall, Fat Bino has the gear for you to wear." 

Vader could not help but smile at the man's bad rhymes. 

"Let me see what you've got in my size", he said. This time, he was not disappointed. Fat Bino was true to his claims, and soon Darth Vader was the new owner of two new pairs of pants, several shirts, and a hooded cloak. 

"You know any jewelers in the vicinity?" he asked when he paid for his purchases. Bino's eyes grew wide as he saw the amount of cash Vader was carrying. 

"Yes, yes", the shop keeper answered quickly. "My cousin Byron, just down the street. Tell him I sent you, and he'll make you a good deal." 

"Thank you, I will." With that, Vader picked up his new clothes and left. 

No sooner had the door closed behind him when Fat Bino made his way to his comm unit with a speed that belied his mass. 

"Vinnie? I just had a customer here that might be of interest to you and your boys. Tall human male, has a lot of scars, and carries a lot of cash and no blaster. I sent him to Byron." He listened to the man at the other end of the line for a few moments. "Yes, I'm sure, no blaster", he repeated. "This will be as easy as taking candy from a baby. You just make sure I get my proper share, you hear me, Vinnie?" 

* * *

To be continued 


	14. Playing Games

**Force of Destiny**

** Summary: **   
An accident reveals an old deception, and Darth Vader must make a decision that will change not only his life. 

* * *

** Chapter 13 **

Playing Games 

Following Fat Bino's directions, Darth Vader quickly found Byron's, a small jeweler's shop that on the outside looked more like a pawn shop. The window displays were cluttered with all kinds of merchandise, from jewelry to communicators, from data readers to ancient leather-bound books. Vader entered and looked around. More strange, exotic, and some even downright impossible articles cluttered the little shop. The air held a musty smell that almost made him sneeze. 

"Welcome, friend, welcome", a short man, the spitting image of Bino except that he was about a hundred pounds lighter, greeted him. 

"You must be Byron." Vader returned the greeting with a nod. "Your cousin Bino recommended you." 

"Ah, the dear Bino. Yes, yes, you must be one of his customers. I imagine it is not easy to find clothes for a person of your formidable built, is it not? I myself am lucky enough to be able to buy from the rack, but I appreciate the problem. And how may I be of service, my friend?" 

"I'm looking for a necklace. Something simple, for a pendant." 

Vader took the Japor snippet out and showed it to Byron. 

"Ah, what a nice work. Tattooine, a Tusken design, if I'm any judge. You don't get to see Japor carvings of this quality often nowadays. And this one is old, about thirty years, if I'm not mistaken", Byron babbled on while examining the pendant. 

"Thirty-three years, to be exact. I made it myself", Vader interjected quietly. 

"But that leather strap is a disgrace", Byron went on as if he had not heard him. "You want something sturdier." 

Vader nodded. 

"I have just the thing for you. Pure, brushed titanium." Byron produced a thin chain of dull gray metal from one of the many drawers behind the counter, holding it out to Lord Vader. "Lightweight, doesn't tarnish, and strong enough to tie up a Wookie with it. Only forty five credits ninety." 

It was a rip-off, but Darth Vader couldn't care less. 

"I'll take it!" 

* * *

Admiral Piett was on his way to the bridge, his injured arm in a sling, when he was being paged over the PA system. He quickly located a comm unit and answered the page. 

"Piett here. What is it?" 

"Admiral, sensors are picking up a fast courier ship. The passenger has hailed us. He insists on speaking to you." 

Jix. The man had actually found a way to meet them almost half a day earlier than expected. 

"Allow his ship to dock and send a security detail to escort him to my quarters." 

"Yes, Admiral." 

"And Lieutenant... make it absolutely clear that he is a guest and to be treated with the utmost courtesy. Understood?" He did not want to get on Lord Vader's bad side by slighting a man Vader himself had called his nephew. 

"Yes, Sir." 

"Good. And ask General Veers to join us in my quarters." 

"Yes, Sir." 

Piett cut the connection and hurried to return to his quarters. He was looking forward to the meeting with somewhat mixed feelings. This Jix person might be a valuable source of information, but on the other hand, Lord Vader had fired the man just before he jumped ship. Well, the first meeting would have to be short anyway, since Piett had to perform the service for the men who had been killed during the fights on board. It was the part of his duty which he hated most; this, and writing the letters to the families. 

* * *

The droid landed Jix's courier ship in the Executor's main hangar and powered down the engines. Jix had had to call in a number of favors to acquire both the courier and the droid that piloted it, especially on such short notice, but he didn't mind. What he did mind was Vader's behavior. The man was apparently out of his mind, or he was in more danger than even Jix liked to admit. 

Fear was something completely alien to Wrenga Jixton, but worry was not. And Jixton was worried. 

The first thing he noticed when he left the courier were the scorch marks on the hangar walls, the second, that his escort was not wearing rank plaques. There was only one possible explanation for it. Mutiny. Was that why Vader had left? Had his crew rebelled against him and forced the Dark Lord to flee? If that was the case, Jix himself was as good as dead. 

But somehow, he did not believe it. Wrenga Jixton was no pilot, and he had only a vague idea of the Executor's actual size, but he knew one thing: The larger the crew of a ship, the smaller was the chance for a mutiny to succeed. Something to do with group dynamics. There had been upheavals on small ships, whole crews going over to the Rebel Alliance, but no-one had ever heard about a successful mutiny on a Star Destroyer. 

The escort's leader stepped up to Jixton and saluted smartly. 

"Welcome aboard, Sir. I am Lieutenant Kel. Admiral Piett is awaiting you in his quarters. Please follow us", he addressed Jixton. 

Jix took his time looking around before he answered the Lieutenant: "You've seen some action around here, my friend." 

"I'm sorry, Sir, but I am not at liberty to discuss this. Admiral Piett will answer all your questions." 

Hmmm... typical military tactic. Don't let the lower ranks leak out information, Jix thought and gave the Lieutenant a predatory smile. The younger man paled and swallowed nervously. 

"Then bring me to him", Jixton purred. 

* * *

His growling stomach reminded Darth Vader that breakfast had been one measly, tasteless ration bar too many hours ago. His first impulse was to go back to the shuttle for more of the same. Idiot, he chided himself. You're on a planet, you have money, go find a restaurant! 

He remembered passing several cafes and restaurants while on the hunt for clothes earlier and set out in the appropriate direction when he felt someone watching him, but dismissed the feeling. Here he was, a two meter tall man in a smuggler's getup, covered with scars, and pale as death. Of course people would be watching him, even in a bad part of Nar Shaddaa, and probably thank whatever gods they prayed to when he passed them without tearing them limb from limb. 

Vader soon found a restaurant and sat down at one of the outdoor tables. The weather had turned out fine, and there was no reason why he should not enjoy the sun warming him along with his meal. A pretty Twi'Lek girl took his order of nerf steak, salad, and a bottle of Correllian ale. 

"Anything else, stranger?" she asked when she brought his meal, slightly brushing against him as if by accident. 

Vader shook his head no. Force, is she actually flirting with me? he thought. The surprise must have registered on his face, because the girl winked and added: "If you change your mind, I'm right over at the bar." 

The waitress retreated, her lekku gently swinging in a way that would have driven a male Twi'Lek mad. The rest of her anatomy was not bad to look at either, both from a Twi'Lek and Human point of view. 

Vader quickly clamped down on the thought. Stuff it, Skywalker, he thought. That girl could be your daughter, if she was the same species as you. Chuckling to himself, Vader tackled his food instead. 

* * *

Maximillian Veers raised his eyebrows when their guest arrived at Piett's quarters. Piett looked the man over. Tall, well muscled, long dark hair tied back in a ponytail, five day stubble on his face, Jix's appearance did not particularly impress Piett. 

"Sergeant Wrenga Jixton. Now that is a surprise", Veers remarked. 

Jixton gave him a wry smile. "Good to be recognized, Colonel. Or is it General now?" 

"It was. I resigned my commission." 

"Since you seem to know this man, Max, why don't you introduce us?" Piett interjected. 

"Of course. Admiral Piett, this is Gunnery Sergeant Wrenga Jixton, former combat instructor at the Imperial Academy until he was sentenced to a life term on Kessel for murdering a superior officer." 

"It was manslaughter, not murder", Jixton corrected mildly. 

"So, how did you come to call Lord Vader uncle?" Piett asked. 

Jixton's grin grew wider. "You could say that he sort of adopted me after I saved his neck." 

"I don't recall Lord Vader ever requiring rescue on Kessel." Piett frowned. 

"It wasn't on Kessel." 

"You should know, Tomas, that Mr. Jixton here is also the only man ever to escape from the high security prison on Kessel", Veers explained. "He is an expert in security systems, explosives, small arms, and all forms of hand-to-hand combat." 

Piett regarded the tall Correllian with new respect. The man might be scruffy looking with his long hair and unkempt appearance, but he must be capable for Max to give him such high praise. That, and he had gained Lord Vader's trust, not an easy feat to accomplish. 

"So, Gentlemen", Jix said slowly, "why don't we get down to business. Let's start with you telling me what the Sith-hell is going on on this ship. And why my dear beloved uncle is missing." 

"Take a seat, Mr. Jixton. This might take a while." Piett waved in the direction of the small sofa with his good arm while he took the chair. "Max, I believe we should offer our guest some brandy, if you would be so kind." 

"Thank you, Admiral, but I never drink on missions", Jix declined the offer. 

"Believe me, Mr. Jixton, you are going to need it." 

* * *

Vader finished his steak and drank down the rest of his beer, signaling the waitress for the check. The girl immediately came over to his table. 

"Anything else, stranger? Another beer, perhaps?" she asked. 

Vader considered it for a moment, but shook his head. He wasn't used to it, and one bottle of the strong Correllian ale had relaxed him almost too much already; he didn't want his senses muddled by alcohol. "No, thank you", he answered. "What do I owe you?" 

The girl stated a number, and Vader paid, adding a hefty tip to the sum. The young waitress regarded him with wide eyes. 

"Wow", she said. "I mean... thank you. You sure you don't want anything else?" 

Vader laughed at that. "Sorry to disappoint you, but I'm married, with children." He winked at her, picked up his purchases, and left. No need to tell her that his wife had been dead for more than twenty years and his son was older than her. 

"A shame, you know", she called after him. "Men like you shouldn't be allowed to get married. You're too good to be wasted on just one woman!" 

Vader shook his head, laughing. He had not considered himself attractive in more than twenty years, and here this slip of a girl practically called him a boy toy. Unbelievable! 

* * *

Vader turned a corner, heading for the public transport terminal, when he again had the sensation of being watched. But this time, there was no-one eyeing him curiously, or staring at him with badly concealed fear. Darth Vader could feel the hair on his neck stand on end. Somebody was following him, and his Force senses told him that that somebody was not friendly. Changing direction, Vader stepped into an alley, ready to drop his bags and reach for his lightsaber at the first sign of trouble. 

"Hello, friend", a voice behind him said in Hutteese. Vader turned around slowly. A scrawny young man with blue hair stood at the alley's entrance, flanked by a Devaronian and another Human, a particularly ugly one. 

"Your bags look awfully heavy", the young man continued. "Especially the small one." 

By the Force, are they trying to rob me? Vader thought, incredulous. 

"Perhaps we should help you carry them, friend", the youngster offered with an oily smile 

"Really", Vader stated. "Let me guess. You're a little short on cash, and you would expect me to pay for your help. Right?" His words were dripping with sarcasm. 

"Well, well, he's catching on fast, right, boys?" Blue Hair looked at his companions. The two snickered and flexed their muscles. Ugly took his blaster out of its holster and casually pointed it at Vader. 

"There's just one little problem, boys. I don't want your help", Vader stated. 

"Pity", Blue Hair replied. "Cause, you see, that's against the rules. We get to help you, or we get to break your kneecaps. So, what's it gonna be?" 

Vader looked at the three with wide eyes and slowly set his bags on the ground. "You know, son, I don't think I like your game." He straightened. "I think I like it better when I get to break your kneecaps." 

Blue Hair stared at him. The guy couldn't be serious! "Reality check, man", he declared. "There's three of us, and you haven't even got a blaster!" 

"True", Vader conceded. "However, I do not require a blaster. Much to inaccurate and clumsy." Drawing and igniting his lightsaber in one fluid motion, Vader advanced on the trio. Ugly shot at him, and he reflected the bolt into the alley's wall, somersaulting over Blue Hair's head. The youngster was struggling to draw his own weapon when Vader landed on his feet with catlike grace and immediately kicked out at him, sending him sprawling on the ground. The Devaronian charged Vader now, a wicked looking vibro knife in his right hand. Vader brought his lightsaber down in an arc, hacking right through the metal blade, turned to avoid the fist still holding the handle, and delivered a knee to the Devaronian's groin. The other doubled over, gasping in pain. Vader used this to punch his elbow on the Devaronians neck, and the alien went down like a ton of bricks. That left Ugly, who had not dared shoot again for fear of hitting his comrade. But now that the Devaronian was down, he raised his blaster again and trained it on Vader. 

"Hold it right there", he commanded. "That was a big mistake, man, hurting my friends. We only wanted your money. But this, man, this is personal." 

Vader just grinned at him. "I do not think you realize the situation", he purred. 

"I'm realizin' I'm the one with the gun, man, so you better put that fancy lasersword down", Ugly yelled. 

Vader focused his Force powers, and the blaster was ripped out of Ugly's fist, flying straight into Vader's outstretched hand. 

"Now who has the gun?" he asked mockingly. 

"Oh, shit", was all Ugly could mumble before Vader had crossed the distance between them and Ugly's chin connected hard with the butt of his own blaster. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he, too, fell to the ground, unconscious. The whole fight had taken less then a minute. 

"All too easy", Vader stated, dropping the blaster on Ugly's chest. Behind him, Blue Hair stirred with a groan. Vader turned around and picked the youngster up by his collar. The boys eyes were still blurred. 

"You should pick a new game, friend", Vader told him and let him drop to the ground again. Clipping his lightsaber back on his belt, Vader retrieved his bags and, adding insult to injury, threw the youngster a fifty credit coin. 

"Buy yourselves a holo chess", he suggested. 

* * *

Half an hour later found the trio in Fat Bino's shop, nursing their injuries. 

"Easy as taking candy from a baby, he said", Blue Hair aka Vinnie repeated Bino's words in a scathing tone. "Doesn't carry a blaster, he said. Damn you, Bino, did you even think to check for a lightsaber?" 

"Now, now, Vinnie, calm down. How was I to know that he was dangerous? He seemed harmless enough", Bino tried to soothe his crony. 

"Harmless? I'll give you harmless!" Vinnie yelled. Bino flinched and held up his hands. "That was a fucking Jedi, you brainless idiot!" 

"Vinnie, Vinnie, please. Everybody knows that the Jedi are extinct. They were all killed in the purges, those that survived the Clone Wars." 

"He looked pretty alive to me, you moron!" 

A calculating look crossed Bino's round face. "Of course, the Empire would pay very well for information on a Jedi..." he mused. 

"Oh no, you don't", Vinnie ordered. 

"What? But why?" Bino asked him, honestly confused. 

"Because I don't want him to come back here and play another round with us, that's why." Vinnie crossed his arms over his chest. 

* * *

To be continued. 


	15. Getting Closer

Force of Destiny - **Force of Destiny**

**Summary: **  
An accident reveals an old deception, and Darth Vader must make a decision that will change not only his life. 

**Chapter 14 **

Getting Closer 

"... and that is why we are defecting to the Alliance", Piett concluded his tale. Jixton had listened intently, not interrupting the Admiral once. Now he cleared his throat. 

"I think I'll take you up on your offer of brandy after all", he stated. 

With a slightly ironic smile, Veers rose to his feet and got three shot glasses and the bottle. 

"You realize of course, Mr. Jixton, that we cannot allow you to leave with your new knowledge", Piett said. "At least not in the next couple of days." 

Jixton gave him a wolfish grin. "And how are you going to hold me here, Admiral?" 

"He's right, Tomas", Veers interjected when Piett bristled at the insult. "Don't forget he escaped from Kessel." 

"Besides", Jixton continued, "who else but me could go after Lord Vader?" 

"Lord Vader is well able to look after himself, Mr. Jixton", Piett told him, slightly miffed. 

"Is he? He'll try to join the Alliance, and they will probably shoot down his shuttle before he can dock with one of their ships. Unless he brings a gift", Jix mused. 

Veers and Piett perked up. "What kind of gift?" Piett queried. 

"Something valuable to the Rebels. Tactical data. Fleet deployments. The plans of the new Death Star." 

"What do you know about..." Piett could not stop himself in time. "The project is still top secret." 

Jixton shrugged. "I have my sources. So, did he take anything like that with him?" 

Veers shook his head slightly. "Not to our knowledge. I had his computer checked, but unless he's a first rate slicer, he did not download any sensitive data at all. Not that we have the Death Star plans, mind you." 

"Then it must be something different." Jixton leaned back in his chair, cradling his drink. "Something to do with the Skywalker kid, I would say." 

"What makes you think that?" Piett asked. How much did Jixton really know? Vader was obsessed with the young Rebel pilot almost to the point of insanity. Had he put Jixton on Skywalker's trail as well? It seemed logical; the agent could move in different circles than the fleet, unearth information about Luke Skywalker's whereabouts that might aide Lord Vader in finding the young man. Piett had never understood his superior's obsession, until he overheard Lord Vader vocalize when he called out to Skywalker through the Force, and call him 'son'. That had been an eye-opener for the Admiral. 

"He's obsessed with the boy. No idea why, but he wants him. He wants him bad enough that he placed a bounty on his head, alive only." Jixton shook his head. "I know Skywalker is supposed to be Force sensitive, but there is more to it than that. Vader never said what was so special about the kid." 

"The boy is Lord Vader's son", Piett explained. 

"Sith!" Jixton exclaimed. "That explains a lot. Poor bastard." The former combat instructor did not elaborate which of the two men he meant, Vader or Skywalker. Instead, he studied his glass. "Think he'll try to hook up with the kid?" 

"I doubt it." Piett shook his head slowly. "Skywalker hates Lord Vader with a passion. They dueled on Bespin and nearly killed each other." 

"Still, it might be our best guess. Skywalker is from Tattooine, isn't he?" 

"So is Lord Vader", Veers said. 

"How do you know?" Jixton did not even try to hide his surprise. 

"His accent when he speaks Hutteese. It's pure Tattooine." 

Piett held up his hand to end the discussion. 

"That does not exactly help us. Skywalker could be anywhere. And you must excuse us now, Mr. Jixton. General Veers and I have a duty to perform", he said. 

"Of course, Admiral." Jixton did not have to ask what duty. The scorch marks on the hangar deck and corridor walls had told him enough. 

Piett got up and palmed the door open; the escort was still waiting outside. 

"You will be escorted to guest quarters, Mr. Jixton, and we shall talk again later." 

Jixton rose from his seat and nodded slightly. 

"And I would appreciate it if you did not interfere with my ship or my crew", Piett added. 

In other words: Don't try to run, Jixton thought. Loud, he said: "You've given me no reason to interfere, Admiral. Yet." With that, he allowed the troopers to lead him to the Executor's guest quarters. 

Laden with bags and packages, Darth Vader exited the public transport system and slowly walked toward the spaceport proper, thinking that he should have made two runs. At least he had acquired everything he needed, even the sun tan lotion. He would have liked a higher UV protection factor, but Nar Shaddaa was not exactly a beach resort. 

In the afternoon light, Nar Shaddaa Space Port had changed its appearance again. While it had been relatively quiet late at night when Vader landed, and moderately busy in the early morning hours, it was now buzzing with activity. Legitimate and not so legitimate businesses were conducted at this time of day, and even the first night clubs and other entertainment establishments had already opened their doors. Vader passed a number of them when a particularly garish neon sign caught his attention. _Tattoos - Piercings - Scar Removal_ it screamed in blinking orange and sickly green letters. For a moment the former Jedi wondered who would risk getting a Tattoo in a place that advertised in such a tacky way. They might end up with a glow-in-the-dark Jawa on their backside. Vader shuddered slightly at the thought. But scar removal, on the other hand... Darth shifted his bags in order to free one hand, which he then ran over his face and scalp. For over twenty years he had not bothered with the thick, ropy keloids that covered his left cheek and the top and back of his head. It had not been worth the trouble. But now that he was free of the life support suit and helmet... well, he might as well check out his options. His mind made up, he entered the Tattoo parlor. 

Padmé had reached a stage of frustration she had not known since the Clone Wars. Another day nearly gone, and the repair on the hyperdrive still was not finished. First it had been the spare parts, then another thing, then one of the repairmen had fallen ill... it was enough to make her want to tear her hair out and desperately wish for her husband to still be alive. Anakin probably could have fixed that hyperdrive with a hairpin and a Force meditation in five minutes flat. But Anakin was dead, and she was stuck with incompetent port authorities and even more incompetent mechanics who didn't know a Corellian freighter from an X-Wing. 

"Enough", she growled. "I'm going to the office and see what is holding up repairs this time. Jar Jar, you stay here." 

The Gungan regarded her with his soft, gentle gaze. "Yousa tinken dis wise, yousa Majesty? Goin' out with no bodyguard?" 

"Who should recognize me, old friend?" Padmé wrapped a shawl around herself, covering her head and the lower half of her face with it, effectively obscuring her features. Even without it, who should recognize her after all these years? Padmé Naberrie Skywalker had officially died twenty-two years ago, assassinated shortly after the murder of her husband half a galaxy away. 

To be continued. 


	16. Near Miss

Force of Destiny - Chapter 15

**Force of Destiny**

**Summary:  
**An accident reveals an old deception, and Darth Vader must make a decision that will change not only his life. 

--- 

**Chapter 15**

**Near Miss**

Darth Vader entered the tattoo parlor with somewhat mixed feelings. Here was a chance to get rid of his scars, the lasting reminders of that fateful duel with his master Obi-Wan Kenobi more than twenty years ago.

All those years, he had hidden his face behind a breathmask not out of vanity, but necessity. Until his life was given back to him as a result of a dumb accident. 

After the shock of seeing himself in a mirror for the first time in years had worn off, the scars had not bothered him much. His crew had seen worse, had imagined his appearance to be much worse under that dreadful helmet.

But here, even in a rough place like Nar Shaddaa Space Port, people stared at him, constantly reminding him of the ghastly keloids that disfigured his once handsome face and snaked over his scalp. He did not see the mixed fear and respect in the civilians' eyes that his mask had commanded, but horror at his disfigurement, and, all too often, pity. There were but a few exceptions to that rule.

Vader imagined that look mirrored in Luke's eyes, and decided he never wanted to see it.

Although he had his doubts about a tattoo artist performing cosmetic surgery, or a cosmetic surgeon who stooped so low as to work as a tattoo artist, Darth Vader knew he had little choice. In a regular hospital, too many questions would be asked. No, it was either this, or keeping the scars. 

The Sith looked around in the brightly lit, high-ceilinged room. The walls were covered with framed pictures of fresh tattoos. A sofa stood in one corner, a desk and chair faced the entrance. The whole room was exceptionally clean, as one should expect from a place like this. 

The young Zabrak behind the desk looked up from his magazine and quickly schooled his face into a neutral expression. His bare arms were covered shoulder to wrist with tattoos depicting the wildlife of several planets. 

Good day and welcome, he greeted Vader. You want to see Master Drell. Please wait here while I get him.

Vader nodded and settled on the sofa to wait while the Zabrak disappeared through a door into a back room.

He was back in a few moments with a person who had to be Master Drell. Vader looked up at the being... and up... and up, for Drell was a Ho'Din and as such well over three meters tall. Even a Wookiee would have been dwarfed standing next to the giant alien. Well, that explained the high ceiling, Vader thought drily.

, the Ho'Din said. My apprentice here tells me you are here for cosmetic surgery.

We have not talked, but yes, he is correct. Vader stood, taking a closer look at Drell and noticing the small Master Healer's insignia on the Ho'Din's collar. He relaxed. The Ho'Din did not take the Master title lightly. As a non-human, Drell was probably forced into his current line of work because no hospital would hire him out of racial prejudice, not because he was not qualified. It seemed the Force had led him to the right place. Your apprentice is very perceptive, Master Healer.

The Ho'Din inclined his head. Please follow me, Master Jedi. You can leave your things here. Kharim will lock the door, so they should be safe enough.

Vader started slightly at Drell's address. What makes you think I'm a Jedi? he inquired.

I saw your weapon. Lightsabers are not very common anymore.

Perhaps I killed a Jedi and took it from him, Vader replied.

I don't think so. Drell led Vader into the back room and indicated the examination table that was standing in the center of the room on a raised dais. Vader climbed on the table.

Your scars are old, and very deep, Master Jedi, Drell said after examining the keloids on Vader's face and scalp both with a scanner and his fingers. I will not be able to heal them completely.

Vader's face fell. I... understand. Thank you for your honesty, Master Healer. It was not the Ho'Din's fault that he, Vader, had foolish dreams. He prepared to get off the table when Drell stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

That does not mean I can do nothing, Jedi. I cannot remove the scars completely, that is true, but I can remove much of the scar tissue.

And that means? Vader asked.

It means they will be much better than they are now. Mind you, I cannot give you a guarantee on how much will be left, but I believe I can reduce them to a fraction of what they are now. Allow me to show you a simulation.

The Sith inclined his head, and Drell produced a data pad and programmed it with the scan results. Soon a computer generated image of Vader's face stared at the Sith staring back at it. 

This is how you look now, the Ho'Din explained unnecessarily and pressed a few buttons on the pad. The image changed, the thick, ropy keloids disappeared, leaving only thin pinkish lines. This is how you would look after the swelling subsides, Drell continued and pressed more buttons. The image changed again, the pinkish lines turned white, almost invisible, and very short, sandy hair mixed with grey covered the formerly bald head, framing a face that was once again handsome. And this is how you would look in a few weeks, if you decide to let your hair grow back.

Vader's swallowed. He had not known what to expect after Drell told him he was not able to heal him completely, but certainly not this. This was better than anything he could have dreamed! Almost reverently, the former Jedi touched the screen. , he whispered. Can you do it now?

The Ho'Din smiled. Nobody comes here to schedule for a later date. Yes, I can perform surgery within the hour, if you wish it. But I must warn you that there will be some swelling at first, and you will be quite uncomfortable for a few days.

I'm aware of that. And I want the operation.

Good. I shall administer a local anesthetic. I don't suppose you prefer going under for this, or do you?

, Vader answered. A local anesthetic is fine with me.

Drell gestured to his apprentice, Kharim, and the young Zabrak brought a tray with sterile instruments.

, Drell told Vader. This will not hurt a bit.

--- 

One hundred and thirty two urns were placed on an antigrav sled that hovered half a meter above the floor of the Executor's main hangar. Each and every one of them contained the ashes of one crew member killed in the fights following Admiral Piett's speech. Now Piett had to make another speech, but he doubted that he would find the right words this time. What did you say about the men your actions had killed? What did you say to their friends, their comrades? Piett lifted his gaze from the sled and regarded the Stormtrooper squad that served as an honor guard. A camera on the far side captured the ceremony for all those who could not attend in person, as well as for the ship's log. The Admiral ran his tongue over his dry lips.

We are gathered here to honor the memory of our fallen comrades, he began. It does not matter on which side they fought. They were all members of this crew, and they fought and were killed for what they believed in. He paused. 

Usually, I would read the names of our fallen at this point, and give a short summary of their careers. This is not possible today. But, we shall not forget our dead. He stepped back to a portion of the hangar wall which was covered by a large tarp. Moving next to it, Piett continued: Instead of a fleeting moment's mention, we will have a constant reminder of our fallen comrades' courage and determination. The Admiral lifted his hand, and, pulling sharply on the cloth, revealed a large tablet with all one hundred and thirty two names on it, in alphabetical order. No difference was made between loyalists and defectors; only the names and ranks were listed. 

May this serve to keep the memory of our friends fresh in our minds. Dropping the corner of the tarp, Piett saluted the tablet while a technician started the sled's engine. The antigrav sled slowly set into motion, gliding out of the hangar and into space in a graceful arc. Eventually, it would fly into a sun, or burn up in a planet's atmosphere, taking the last remains of the men who died on board the Executor with it.

--- 

Wrenga Jixton paced the confines of his cabin. He had been assigned officer's quarters, in deference to the fact that he had been Lord Vader's agent, and it amused him to no end.

But he had no time for amusement now. Even a Force-blind like himself could see that his employer was in danger. And he was stuck here on the Executor while that crazy Admiral was plotting to go over to the Alliance! Not that he had a clue as to where Vader was. The Sith Lord could be on any of several dozen planets by now. The only thing that Jixton could be certain of was that Vader, too, was planning to join the Rebellion. He had said so himself in his recorded message to Piett. How he thought he could accomplish this, however, was a complete mystery to everybody. Piett at least had a capital ship to offer the Rebellion, a ship that would provide enough protection until they could get the Alliance leaders to listen to them. Vader, of course, had the Force, but Jixton doubted that the Sith Lord's command of a mystical energy field would save him when the whole Rebel fleet was set to blast him out of space.

No, Vader must have a plan. He always had. But what hare-brained scheme could possibly convince the Alliance council of Vader's sincerity? It had to do something with Skywalker, of that Jixton was certain. The boy was Vader's son, and as Force-sensitive as his father. As a Jedi, Skywalker's word ought to have some weight with the Rebels. The boy was also part of Leia Organa's inner circle, and the former Senator of Alderaan was one of the Alliance's known leaders. But what could ever sway the Princess to accept Darth Vader as their ally, after everything he put her through? After he had her lover tortured and frozen in carbonite and allowed the bounty hunter Boba Fett to take him to Jabba the Hutt? Jixton had, of course, learned all about that in preparation for one of Vader's little jobs. In a sudden flash of insight, the answer presented itself to him.

Jixton exclaimed, and dropped on the sofa. Vader must truly be mad if he believed he could pull that on off alone.

--- 

Master Healer Drell finished dressing Vader's cheek and scalp with bacta packs after surgically removing the old scars.

Keep the wounds clean, and leave the bacta packs on until tomorrow, he advised his patient. There will be some swelling and discoloration for a couple of days, and the wounds will itch when they heal. Do not scratch, or you might risk infection.

I understand, Vader replied. His speech was somewhat slurred because half of his face was still numbed by the anesthetic. How much do I owe you, Master Healer?

Kharim will discuss payment with you, Master Jedi, Drell replied. He bowed and left Vader alone with his Zabrak apprentice.

Please come with me to the front desk, Jedi, Kharim asked politely. Vader slid off the table and followed him.

The Zabrak presented him with a bill which Vader gladly paid. Silently, the Dark Lord vowed to make a different kind of payment to the Healer later. There were still a few connections he could use once he had joined the Alliance, and a certain clinic specialized on burn victims he had anonymously supported for a number of years now. A good cosmetic surgeon like Drell would be welcome there, no matter what his species was. He would see to that. 

Picking up his various bags and packages, Vader left and, still deep in thought, ran right into a small shrouded figure around the next corner. His bags all spilled to the ground, and the diminutive woman who had not been paying any more attention than him on where she was going, also fell. She probably could not even see where she was going with that shawl wrapped around her head and face, as effectivly obscuring her features as the bandages obscured Vader's. 

Chess ko, Vader rumbled good-naturedly (Careful). Bending down, he offered the woman his hand to help her up, but she smacked it away, got to her feet and hurried on without a word. Vader looked after her retreating form, then shrugged and gathered up his belongings. Some people are in an awful hurry, he mused and pitied anybody who got in the way of this shrew. It was strange, though. All of a sudden, he had the nagging feeling that he had missed something vitally important. And he could not shake it.

--- 

Padmé returned to her ship in a foul mood. Not only were the port authorities dense as dwarf star matter, some big oaf just had to run her into the ground on her way back. Could this day turn any worse? In the privacy of her cabin, Padmé Naberrie Skywalker ripped the shawl from her head and let out a string of blue language that would have turned a Toydarian purple. It did not solve the problems, but it did make her feel better.

--- 

To be continued.


	17. 

Force of Destiny

**Force of Destiny - Chapter 16**

**Tattooine**

The shuttle Tydirium lifted off smoothly from Nar Shaddaa Space Port and soon broke orbit. Its pilot punched in the coordinates for his next destination. When he pulled back the levers which activated the hyperdrive, the stars elongated, streaked past, and the swirling patterns of hyperspace engulfed the small shuttle. Darth Vader, Anakin Skywalker, was on his way.

----- 

The twin suns rose over the Dune Sea on Tattooine, their light glinting off the polished hulls of two droids. C-3PO had been constantly complaining about their assignment, the desert, the cold night air, the danger they were in ever since he and R2-D2 had left Obi-Wan Kenobi's house to take Master Luke's message to Jabba the Hutt. R2 twittered sympathetically.

Of course I'm worried. And you should be, too. Lando Calrissian never returned from this awful place, 3PO said as they were nearing the crimelord's desert palace. 

R2 beeped a comment, causing his counterpart to continue: Don't be so sure. If I told you half the things I have heard about this Jabba the Hutt, you'd probably short-circuit. 

R2-D2, however, was not convinced. C-3PO tended to worry too much. 

The pair finally reached the tall steel doors that led into the Hutt's lair.

R2, are you sure this is the right place? 3PO inquired. R2 beeped an indignant answer. Of course he was sure! 

The tall droid lifted his hand to knock. I'd better knock, I suppose, he commented, and tapped the door lightly with his fingers before turning to his companion. There doesn't seem to be anyone there. Let's go back and tell Master Luke, he suggested, the words coming out so quickly they were nearly jumbled when a small hatch suddenly popped open and a mechanical eyestalk appeared, speaking in Huttese.

Goodness gracious me! 3PO cried. The eyestalk spoke some more, and 3PO proceeded to introduce R2-D2 and himself and state their business in the same language. Laughing, the eyeball retracted. The tall protocol droid was clearly shaken.

I don't think they're going to let us in, R2. We better go, C-3PO noted and turned to leave when the massive doors started to rise with the grinding screech of metal on poorly lubricated metal.

R2-D2 immediately rolled into the cool, dark opening, leaving C-3PO to call after him: R2, wait! Oh, dear... R2, I really don't think we should rush into this. R2, wait for me!

The protocol droid followed his friend as quickly as he could on the sand. If there was something that scared him more than going into Jabba's lair, it was being so close to Jabba's lair alone.

----- 

Wrenga Jixton dialed the Executor's bridge from the comm unit in his quarters. He had to talk to Admiral Piett immediately. The longer they waited, the smaller their chances were to catch up with Lord Vader before the Sith arrived at his destination and got himself killed. What possessed Vader, anyway? Jix thought. Was he suicidal? Or just plain crazy? To say that Wrenga Jixton was annoyed with his employer would be an understatement. 

----- 

Yes, Captain, what is it? Padmé Naberrie answered the summons from the bridge of her small flotilla's flagship. 

Madam, the repairs are complete. We can now continue on our way.

Finally! Padmé suppressed a sigh.

Very well, Captain. Recall all personnel and lift off as soon as possible. I want to be in hyperspace within the hour. Set a direct course for Sullust, Padmé instructed. After all, they did not want to be late for the battle.

----- 

Admiral Piett, or, more correctly, ex-Admiral Piett, moved to take Jixton's call when Stevens intercepted him.

Incoming ships, Sir, the crewman manning CommScan cried. Two Star Destroyers, bearing two-o-three by seven-four. It's the Devastator and the Avenger, Sir.

Good. Commence evacuation procedure, Piett ordered. 

They are hailing us, Sir, Stevens announced.

Maintain radio silence, Piett snapped. 

You want to keep them off guard? Veers, who was standing in his usual position at Piett's elbow, inquired quietly. His friend smiled. 

I want to avoid having to blast them out of the system... yet, Piett whispered back.

Sir, Mister Jixton insists on speaking to you, a young lieutenant called to Piett.

Tell him I'm busy, Piett barked. He could not use the distraction now. He had to keep his mind on the two ships out there.

I did, Sir.

Damn, Piett thought. Of all the times the agent could pick to call him... Moving swiftly to a comm unit, Piett took the call.

Whatever it is, Mr. Jixton, it has to wait, he snapped before Jixton had the chance to utter a word.

The Correllian raised his eyebrows.

Are we going into battle? he asked.

I hope not, Mr. Jixton. Stay in your quarters. I shall contact you as soon as the situation permits.

Men who had been locked in their quarters and, in some cases, in the brig, were hurried to the hangars in record time. Many of them had to be guarded, and some even cuffed and chained. 

Avenger and Devastator tried in vain to contact the Executor, their calls becoming more frantic as the minutes passed. Communications passed between the two Destroyers, closely monitored by the Executor, who remained silent. Finally, both smaller ships started to move into attack position. Executor raised her shields.

From all docking bays of the mighty battle cruiser, craft were launched, carrying those crew members who did not want to join the Rebel Alliance toward the two smaller ships. Piett's estimate of the number of loyalists among his crew had been somewhat too high. Instead of ninety thousand, only a total of seventy-six thousand crewmen and officers left, a fact that made the former Admiral proud. Still, almost all troop transports and even some of the escape pods had to be employed to send these men on their way. Their communications devices had all been disabled, except for an emergency beacon. And they could not be retrieved later. 

Sir, all craft have launched, Captain Durreen reported. The whole evacuation had taken only a little more than half an hour. 

Good. Helm, take us out of here. Plot a course to Sullust, best available speed.

We're taking the direct route? Veers asked.

Piett shrugged. Since we know where the Rebel fleet is, the rest of the Imperial fleet also knows it. No point in pretending we're going anywhere else.

That's the wrong system, a voice called, making both Piett and Veers jump.

----- 

Wrenga Jixton frowned when Piett cut the connection. Whatever was happening, it could not be good. Piett seemed on edge. Never a good sign when the commanding officer got jumpy. 

Guess I have to go look for myself, Jix thought. If he thinks I'm going to sit in my quarters like a virgin maiden, he's got another thought coming.

Palming the door open, Jixton peered cautiously into the corridor. Only one guard was placed by his door. Either Piett trusted him, or he was a fool. Probably both.

The soldier turned to Jixton.

Please stay in you quarters, Sir, he asked politely.

Jixton smiled. And if I don't?

Then I am under orders to keep you there, Sir. I'm sorry, Sir. 

I'm sorry, too, Jixton quipped, drew back his fist and delivered a right cross to the guard's chin that immediately knocked the man out cold. He caught the soldier before he could crumple to the floor and dragged him into the cabin. 

Sweet dreams, Jixton murmured before he closed the door. Now which way to the bridge?

----- 

C-3PO caught up to his companion when R2-D2 ran into one of the ever present Gamorrean guards. The pigfaced guard snarled at the small droid.

Just deliver Master Luke's message and get us out of here! 3PO cried. Behind them, the massive steel doors clanked shut. Another guard shoved C-3PO out of the way as Bib Fortuna, Jabba's TwiLek majordomo, appeared.

Dtay tola! Dtay wonna wan ga? he demanded. The TwiLek was already in a foul mood. What did these droids want, at such an early hour?

Oh, my. Dtay wonna wan go, 3PO answered, bowing to the majordomo.

But hoo! Fortuna called. 

We bring a message to your master, Jabba the Hutt, the droid explained.

Dtay Jabba wan ga.

R2 twittered something, and Fortuna's eyes darted to the small astromech droid.

And a gift, 3PO translated his friends comment. Its meaning dawned to him a bit belatedly. A gift? What gift?

R2 beeped a short answer. Fortuna, momentarily pacified, bowed down to R2 and stroked the small droid's dome with his long-nailed fingers, purring: Neh Jabba no badda. Iz dye yoto. Say gotto oh mooty. Me chaade soh goody. Greed gleamed in his orangeish eyes. 

R2 shook in disgust. He would rather be melted down than belonging to this creature, for it was clear what Fortuna was saying, even without 3PO translating. He chirped and beeped his answer for 3PO to interpret.

He says that our instructions are to give it only to Jabba himself, C-3PO explained. R2 twittered an affirmative, and the Gamorrean behind 3PO growled, amused that the high and mighty Bib Fortuna apparently did not always get what he wanted. Fortuna himself was looking daggers at the tall droid. How dare he!

I'm terribly sorry, but I'm afraid he's ever so stubborn about these things, 3PO apologized. 

Noh chaa! Fortuna snarled and turned to lead the two droids to his master.

R2, I have a bad feeling about this, 3PO observed as they followed the indignant TwiLek into Jabba's throne room.

----- 

Darth Vader put the helmet down with a satisfied grunt and stretched. He had spent the past hour on modifications to his suit and helmet so he could still use them as a flight suit. There was no doubt in his mind that he would have need of one soon.

Making his way into the cockpit, he checked the time. Still a few hours to his next destination. Enough time for a wash, a snack, and a nap, exactly in this order. Vader stretched again and yawned. It had been a long day, and he wanted to be fresh and alert when he began the next step in his self-assigned mission.

----- 

Jabba looked up from his first waterpipe of the day when Fortuna led the two droids into his throne room. The TwiLek climbed up to stand behind his master and whisper into his ear as the smaller of the two ran a holo message. Although as a matter of pride he never spoke Basic himself, Jabba perfectly understood what the young man said, and laughed out loud. This Jedi wannabe was in for a nasty surprise!

Fortuna obviously was of the same opinion. Master, bargain rather than fight? he hissed into Jabba's ear. He's no Jedi.

Jabba agreed with the TwiLek. There will be no bargain, he rumbled in his native language. I will not give up my favorite decoration. I like Captain Solo where he is.

The Hutt pointed to the far wall where Han Solo was hanging.

R2, look! It's Captain Solo, and he's still frozen in carbonite! the taller droid cried out. Jabba's whole court laughed cruelly at the droid's apparent distress.

----- 

Piett exclaimed and gestured the guards who had drawn their weapons on the intruder to stay calm. You were supposed to stay in your quarters.

And miss all the fun? Nah... Jix sauntered over to the Admiral. 

Veers stepped between the two men. What do you mean by the wrong system? he addressed Jixton. The agent regarded the spectacular view of the stars from the bridge for a few moments before answering.

I know where Vader's gone, he said.

We already know he's going to the Alliance, Jixton, Piett interjected.

But not directly. Right now, he's headed for Tattooine, Jix answered.

Veers threw Jixton a puzzled look. His home planet? What would he want there? 

Interesting, Jix thought. So Vader was from Tattooine. He stored the information away for later use and turned to the General with a broad smile. Why, to pick up a gift for Princess Leia, of course! 

Veers gaped openmouthed at Jixton.

Conference room, Piett quipped, and steered both men into the ready room adjacent to the bridge.

A gift? What gift? he demanded as soon as the door had closed behind them.

A carbonite statue of one Captain Han Solo. Jixton studied his fingernails. I believe Jabba has the original, and Princess Leia Organa is more than interested in it. Don't you agree?

Veers plopped down into one of the chairs. He can't take Jabba on alone.

I agree. Jixton hopped onto the table, while Piett remained standing, arms crossed before his chest.

What equipment do you need, Mr. Jixton? he asked. The agent smiled. 

Only my courier ship and a pilot.

You have one. Veers got to his feet.

Jixton's eyebrows shot up. Are you sure, General? Things might get messy, he teased.

Veers gave him a thin-lipped smile. I never got into the habit of staying behind when my men were fighting.

Good. Hope you did not forget how to take orders, either. Because I'll be the one giving them, General. 

Let us just say I will follow your expertise as a field agent, Mr. Jixton, Veers conceded. 

Are you sure about this, Max? Piett asked quietly.

I am, Veers nodded. Lord Vader needs all the help he can get when he's going up against Jabba's gang. You take the ship to Sullust, and we'll meet you there in a couple days.

We could put a team together, Piett began, but Jixton interrupted him: No. Too conspicuous. We'll never get in there with a whole army.

He's right, Tomas. A strike team would draw too much attention. Jabba has his eyes everywhere. Two men have a better chance of slipping through.

Tell you what, Admiral, Jixton said in a soothing voice. If we're not at Sullust in four days, you can send a team to pick up our bodies. He chuckled at the Admiral's sullen expression.

----- 

Luke Skywalker was sitting crosslegged on the floor of Kenobi's house, meditating. The droids where in place, as was Lando Calrissian. Soon he would send Leia and Chewbacca into Jabba's palace for the next step of his plan. But not yet. Another player was about to enter into his game, and he had to give him some time. 

Reaching out with the Force, Luke felt his father's essence coming closer, careful not to give his own presence away. There was a chance that Vader was coming for him, but Luke did not believe this. Not after the vision he had. He could clearly feel the change in Vader now. In Anakin. Ben and Yoda had been wrong. There was a way back from the Darkside.

He could almost hear Yoda's voice. Difficult to see the future is, the old Jedi master had taught him. Always in motion. But he was not trying to glimpse the future. It was the present he focussed on, and it showed him everything he needed to see.

----- 

The Tydirium dropped out of hyperspace close too Tattooine. Vader, now dressed in dark pants, a light colored shirt reminiscent of a Jedi robe, and a hooded cloak, steered the small craft into orbit and contacted Mos Eisley Space Port for a landing permit. 

This is Tydirium calling Mos Eisley, he spoke into the microphone. Request landing permit.

Tydirium, this is Mos Eisley Space Port. Please state the nature of your visit.

, Vader replied curtly, knowing he would not be questioned further.

Thank you, Tydirium. You are clear to land in docking bay 94. Have a nice day.

Docking bay 94, acknowledged. Vader cut the connection and shook his head. Have a nice day, indeed. Bureaucrats! He guided the shuttle down to Mos Eisley and into his assigned docking bay. He could have landed closer to Jabba's palace, but that would only draw attention, which he did not need. Better to follow procedure, although it meant he had to buy a speeder.

----- 

A fast courier ship reached orbit around Tattooine not much later. Veers and Jixton had made good time, and they had had the advantage of being closer to Tattooine to begin with. Veers had changed into some civilian clothes he kept on board for shore leave before leaving for Tattooine. 

We could still be too late, he mused, gently guiding the ship into a landing cycle. He could be dead already.

I don't think so, Jixton said. He's crazy, but he's not dumb. I think he stopped over someplace else first and prepared for this.

You didn't need much preparation.

Hey, I was borne prepared. 

Veers rolled his eyes and groaned, which made Jixton chuckle. 

In fact, I brought a few toys with me. The former combat instructor squeezed his tall frame into the courier's cramped back cabin and rummaged through his bags.

he called, tossing Veers a blaster. The General caught it and looked it over. 

Nice hardware, he acknowledged. Not your usual military equipment.

No. It's sighted. Got a few more goodies here. Jixton dug out several thermal detonators and handed them to Veers who stuffed them into the pockets of his vest.

Anything else? Veers asked. 

Binoculars, canteens, flash grenades, lock picker, grappling hooks. Jixton grinned. Now all we have to do is find Uncle Dee before he gets himself into trouble.

He's already in trouble.

Okay, before he gets himself into more trouble. 

Veers took the ship to one of the docking bays. A deep frown crossed his features when he looked out the viewport just before setting down.

I think we just lucked out, he said. There is a Lambda class shuttle only two bays down, in No. 94.

It can't be that easy! Jixton exclaimed. He did not trust this. 

With Lord Vader, you never know, Veers commented cryptically. It might be coincidence, or luck, or it might be the Force. Whatever it is, I'm not going to question it.

----- 

Vader stepped into the dealer's yard, the hood of his cloak drawn deep into his face to protect him from the hot afternoon sun. Although he had used sun tan lotion quite liberally, he knew his skin could not take much of the glare of Tattooine's twin suns yet. 

, the Rhodian running the shop called to him.

Hello. I'm looking for a used speeder. What do you have to offer?

Ah, we have the best nearly new speeders in town. Allow me to show you one of my top models. The dealer led Vader to a dark blue sedan. This is one of my best. Notice the condition of the paint job. The previous owner kept her in mint condition! He started the engine, and Vader immediately heard the slight whine that meant the turbine would give out soon. 

, he said. I need something sturdier.

Sturdier? Sturdier, you say? You will never find a sturdier vehicle than this, my good man!

Provided you fit it with a new engine, you mean. Darth fixed the dealer with a glare, and the Rhodian gulped. 

I think I will just look around.

Uh... of course. Be my guest, the Rhodian whispered. 

Vader looked around, starting the engines of one or two other speeders, but was not satisfied with any of them until he moved to an older, beat-up looking ST-model in the back of the yard. It surely did not look like much. It definitely needed a new paint job, and it seemed to have been in too close contact with a Gaffi stick or two. But the engine purred like a kitten. Vader had a good feeling about this speeder. A very good feeling.

What about this one? he asked.

Oh, this one. Has been here for years. The previous owner bought it from some farm boy and was never able to sell it. I make you a good deal on it.

How much?

Three thousand. A look into Vader's face made the Rhodian reconsider. Alright, two thousand five hundred, but that's cutting my own throat!

Two thousand, Vader rumbled.

Two thousand, the Sith repeated.

The Rhodian sighed. Today was not his day for good deals. At least he got rid of the old speeder. Okay, two thousand, but you have to buy the fuel.

I'll prepare the papers, and you can pick it up in half an hour.

I'll be here. Oh, and don't try to harvest any parts before then. I would not like it. Understood?

The Rhodian blinked his enormous black eyes. I wouldn't dream of it, Sir! he squeaked. 

Vader smiled. Of course not.

He returned to his shuttle to pick up the things he would need in Jabba's palace when he saw two familiar faces in the crowd. Swearing under his breath, he ducked into the entrance of a building. Veers and Jixton passed, apparently arguing among themselves. He followed them until they reached a seedy cantina.

Are you looking for me, Gentlemen? he called. Both men whirled around to face him.

Hey, Uncle Dee. What a strange coincidence. Jixton grinned. 

Veers appeared much less relaxed than his companion. , he began, but Vader silenced him with a glare. 

In there. Now, he growled. The two obeyed in the blink of an eye. 

Vader ushered them to table near the back of the room.

What possessed you to follow me? he demanded. I won't even ask how you found me.

Glancing around, Veers answered in a hushed whisper: Sir, it would be foolish to go up against Jabba alone.

Who says I'm going against Jabba? This is my home planet, Veers. Maybe I want to retire here. Buy a moisture farm.

In a Gammorrean's eye. Jixton was as direct as ever. You're going to the Alliance, and you're not going there empty-handed. 

, Vader sneered. What does Jabba have that the Alliance would want?

Captain Solo, Jixton answered. 

Vader slumped in his chair. So you know. Very well. I can understand that you would not pass up an opportunity to annoy me, Jix, but what brings you here, Veers? You have a career.

I also have some honor left in me, Sir, Veers replied stiffly. 

Hey, are you guys going to buy drinks, or do you plan on just taking up a table? the bartender, a greasy looking human, called to them.

Juri Juice, Jix called back. Three, and make them large ones.

Three large Juris coming up.

Vader leaned closer to Veers while Jix picked up their drinks.

Did you bring Piett as well?

Uh... not exactly, Mylord...

Don't call me that, Vader hissed. If you have to use a name, call me Anakin. He waited for Veers to continue. What about Piett? he finally asked.

Well... he didn't want to leave the ship behind, Veers said lamely.

Good man. Vader leaned back in his chair and accepted a glass from Jixton. He's more sensible than you, Veers. Setting down his glass without tasting it - he wouldn't put it past Jixton to spike his drink - he looked first at Jixton, then at Veers again. Return to the fleet. I don't need you two here. he stated.

Jixton snorted. You're going to need some backup at least. How do you plan to get into Jabba's palace and safely out again? Solo will probably not be in the best of shapes. 

Leave that to me. 

You must have a death wish, Jix stated, glaring at Vader. 

You should know, Vader retorted. 

Veers looked from one to the other. These two were bickering like a married couple. 

Gentlemen, can we be sensible about this? Anakin, you have a plan worked out. A plan that does not include us

Vader nodded curtly.

Well, we're not going to back down. At least allow us to be your backup.

Vader rubbed his forehead in exasperation. Alright. I can see that I cannot get rid of the two of you. He paused, thinking. There is a farm out of Anchorhead. The owners are dead. I'll meet you there with Solo. If I'm not at the farm in two days at noon, you can try to rescue us.

Jixton wanted to mouth a protest, but Veers nodded. Two days it is. 

Vader got up from the table and turned to leave when Veers called after him: Anakin? Good luck!

The former Jedi smiled. There is no such thing as luck.

----- 

Sneaking into Jabba's palace had been laughably easy for a fully trained Jedi. What few guards were not drunk or asleep fell to a suggestion carefully placed in their minds. Still, Anakin knew he had to be careful, and he kept his hand close to his lightsaber. There were those among the guards who were of species immune to his mind control.

He went down a short flight of stairs leading into Jabba's main reception hall. The palace itself had not changed much in thirty-three years; it was a bit shabbier then it used to be, but that was about it. A wind chime jingled slightly when he brushed against it in passing; Anakin held his breath, but no-one stirred. Silently, he crept into the reception hall proper and looked around. 

Bless Jabba's black heart! Solo, still encased in carbonite, was suspended on the wall like some obscene art object. For a fleeting moment Anakin wondered what Thrawn would think about such a display. He quickly crossed the intervening space and studied the controls on the carbonite case. Solo was still alive, and still in hibernation. The case itself was as bulky as Anakin remembered it. There was no way he could get Solo out of the palace with it, not through the passages he had used to get in. He had no choice but to thaw the Correllian right here. He switched off the repulsor that kept Solo suspended, and the carbonite case hit the floor with a loud clunk. Anakin flinched, but still there were no sounds but his own to be heard. His luck still held. He quickly worked the controls on the case and stepped back as heat emanated from it, heralding the beginning of the thawing process.

The front of the case glowed red and melted away, finally freeing Han Solo. Anakin caught him as he fell forward and gently lowered him to the floor. Solo gasped for breath and blindly reached for his rescuer.

Just relax for a moment. You're free of the carbonite and have hibernation sickness, Anakin whispered. 

I can't see, Solo gasped and struggled to sit up. Anakin helped him into a sitting position. 

You're eyesight will return in time, Anakin soothed.

Where am I? Solo demanded.

Jabba's palace.

Solo reached up to touch his face. Who are you?

I'm Anakin Skywalker, I'm here to rescue you. Force, he sounded like a dweeb!

You're who? Solo was dumbfounded; Skywalker, that name he knew, but who in Sith-hell was Anakin?

I'm Luke's father...

Luke? Where is he?

Anakin rolled his eyes. Come on, I've got to get you out of here. 

He pulled the shivering Correllian to his feet when they both heard deep, guttural laughter behind them. Solo froze with apprehension. I know that laugh.

----- 

To be continued


	18. Cell Mates

Force of Destiny 

Force of Destiny 

Summary:   
An accident reveals an old deception, and Darth Vader must make a decision that will change not only his life. 

----- 

Chapter 17 

Cell Mates 

----- 

I know that laugh. 

Behind the two men, a heavy curtain was drawn open, revealing Jabba the Hutt and his vile court. Anakin cursed inwardly. How could he have missed this? How could he not sense so many beings nearby? The answer, of course, was simple. He had been concentrating on his hearing like a Force-blind instead of heeding the hints the Force itself was throwing at him. With difficulty, the Jedi calmed himself. Perhaps it was better this way, he reflected. Anakin hated Jabba and all that the crimelord stood for with a passion. He had not forgotten his early years as a slave, completely at the mercy of people like Jabba. Now, there would be no creeping out of the palace like some common thief. Now he had a reason to fight and give the Hutt the painful death he deserved. Maybe not as painful as he deserved; a lightsaber was almost to good for this piece of slime. 

Jabba was still laughing when Solo turned around and started pleading with him: Listen, Jabba, I was just on my way to pay you back... 

, Anakin growled, disgusted with the lack of backbone Solo was displaying. What was it the Princess saw in this spineless two-bit smuggler? With a flick of his hand, Anakin drew and ignited his lightsaber. It is your choice, Jabba. You can let us go... or you can die, he intoned. 

And who are you, another Jedi? There seem to be quite a lot of them lately. His cronies joined in the Hutt's mocking laughter. 

I am Anakin Skywalker. I do not expect you to remember me, Anakin replied evenly. 

Skywalker, mh? Anakin Skywalker... Jabba's enormous eyes narrowed. Not the little Human slave who won the Boonta Eve Race some thirty years ago? Humph. You were much more amusing back then. He paused before continuing: I've been killing Jedi when you were still in your diapers, little Human. You are no threat to me. 

Anakin took a step forward; he itched to tell Jabba his other name, the one he had been known under for the past twenty-something years, but decided against it. It would gain him no more than a moment's satisfaction to see Jabba cower in fear, but it would seriously damage his mission. But he could taunt the gangster. 

Your overconfidence will be your downfall, Jabba. 

Look around you, Jedi. My men have you covered. Ah, you could kill them all with your Force tricks, and me too, but not before one of them does your precious friend Solo in. 

Anakin's gaze flicked around. Jabba was right. His guards where everywhere around them, blasters trained not on him, but on Han Solo. Blind, helpless Han Solo. 

With a curse, Anakin tossed his lightsaber away. You've won this round, Jabba, he hissed between clenched teeth. 

----- 

Three more small, old ships joined the Rebel fleet. That in itself was not remarkable; many vessels used in the Rebellion against the Galactic Empire were years or even decades beyond their prime, although well maintained and often modified to suit the needs of warfare. What was remarkable was the woman in command of these three ships, and the welcome she received. Word about Padmé Naberrie spread like wildfire among the crews and pilots. For those who still remembered the impossible victory the Queen Amidala had won against the Trade Federation many years ago her return from the underground movement was a certain sign that the Rebellion would finally triumph. 

It is good to see you again, Padmé. Mon Mothma greeted the smaller woman with a warm embrace, which Padmé returned. 

It's good to be back, Mon. Our ships were held up by repairs, and I feared we would come too late. 

Mon Mothma shook her head, inviting Padmé with a gesture to follow her. The fleet is not completely assembled yet, and we are still waiting for Commander Skywalker and Princess Leia to return from Tattooine. 

Padmé frowned; she had been looking forward to finally meeting her children. What are they doing there? she asked as soon as she and Mon Mothma had entered the relative privacy of the Alliance President's quarters. 

Rescuing your son's best friend, Leia's boyfriend, if I'm not mistaken, Mon told her with a wink. Han Solo is a good man, but he got into some trouble or other with the Hutts. 

Padmé smirked. If the Hutts don't like him, he must be a good man. She settled into the soft leather couch. Soon she would see her children again; maybe she would even be able to reveal Leia's identity as her daughter. But not yet. Tell me more about my son, Mon. How is he? What does he look like? Is he anything like his father? 

Mon Mothma smiled at the barrage of questions. Which question do you want answered first? 

----- 

The Rebel fleet floated silently in orbit around Sullust. Mon Calamari Cruisers, Nebulon B Frigates and Correllian Blockade Runners were at the center of the largest armada the Alliance had ever assembled. Smaller sentry ships zipped between and around them like so many planets around their suns, scanning the space beyond the fleet, protecting the larger ships. It was a strangely peaceful scene. To the casual observer, nothing except the types and number of the ships indicated that they were soon going to go into battle. Until a giant mass dropped out of hyperspace close to the system. 

----- 

Klaxons blared and alarm bells rang on every ship of the Rebel fleet, including the flag ship designated Home One. Admiral Ackbar, a Mon Calamari in command of the fleet, turned around to face his aide. 

Status report! he shouted. 

Capital ship just dropped out of hyperspace, Sir. Mass... Sir, this can't be right! 

What is it, Lieutenant? Ackbar queried impatiently. 

Sir, the mass of the ship exceeds that of a Star Destroyer by a factor of more than 1300! 

Ackbar closed his eyes, slumping in his chair. The Empire had found them. Your data is correct, Lieutenant. That is a Super Star Destroyer. The Mon Calamari straightened again; he would be damned before he went down without a fight! 

Shields up! All stations, prepare for battle, he ordered. 

----- 

Admiral Piett took the Executor out of hyperspace as close to Sullust's gravity well as he could without running the risk of damaging the hyperdrive. The more he could surprise the Rebel fleet, the less time they had to mount an attack before he could contact their leaders. 

Stand down all weapons, he ordered calmly. Hold position. 

Gradually, the immense ship slowed down as her reverse thrusters fired, until the Executor came to a full stop a few thousand kilometers from the main body of the rebel fleet. 

----- 

Sir, they are powering down their weapons, Ackbar's aide reported. 

The Admiral swiveled his chair around. You mean powering up, don't you? 

No, Admiral, Sir. The Lieutenant looked up, confusion clearly written on his face. They have deactivated all weapon's banks. 

Contact our fighters. They are to create a perimeter, but not attack, Ackbar commanded. 

Yes, Sir! 

Sir, we have positive identification of the ship. It's the Executor, CommScan reported. 

The Executor... Darth Vader's ship! Ackbar could almost feel his gills dry up and shrivel at this piece of news. What deviltry was the Sith Lord up to? 

----- 

Piett watched the X-Wing squadron zip and dive around his ship like so many flies. So far, they had not attacked. Piett took that as a good sign. The Rebels were reluctant to open fire first; noble, but often foolish in the sight of the odds they faced. Today, Piett was grateful for this trait. 

Drop shields, he ordered. 

----- 

Admiral, Executor just dropped her shields, the officer at CommScan cried out. 

What was Vader up to? The Mon Calamari's mind was working frantically to come up with an answer to that question, but found none. It almost looked like Executor was going to surrender, but that was impossible, wasn't it? Not Vader's own flagship... 

Maintain position, Ackbar ordered. Hold your fire. 

----- 

No reaction from the Rebel fleet yet, Admiral, Captain Durreen reported. They're just sitting there, watching us. 

Piett nodded, satisfied. Time for the next, crucial step. Open a channel. 

----- 

Admiral, they are hailing us! 

Put them on screen, Ackbar replied. Maybe he would get some answers now. 

The long, narrow face and upper body of an Imperial officer filled the screen in front of him. Ackbar noticed that the man was not wearing a rank plaque on his uniform. 

Admiral Ackbar, I presume? the man inquired. At Ackbars nod, he continued: I am Tomas Piett, in command of the Executor. My crew and I wish to join the Alliance. 

Admiral Ackbar, former slave of Grand Moff Tarkin, strategist and veteran of many battles against the Empire, felt his jaw drop. 

----- 

Anakin Skywalker and Han Solo were shoved roughly into a dark, dank cell deep in the bowels of Jabba's palace. The Correllian stumbled and would have fallen had Anakin not caught his arm and steadied the younger man. 

The door clanked shut behind them with an ominous sound. 

Some rescue, Solo mumbled. Anakin frowned at him, although the Correllian could not see it. 

, he murmured. We are not dead yet. And as soon as security is relaxed again, we can leave this place. 

Yeah, right, Solo commented. Cause you just happen to have the key to our cozy little apartment in your pocket. 

A lopsided grin appeared on Anakin's face. I don't need a key, Solo, he explained. The Force is with me. 

Solo groaned. Not another mad wizard! Kenobi had been bad enough, but this guy who claimed to be Luke's dad was even worse. Thinking of which... 

Who are you, really? he demanded. 

I told you. I'm Anakin Skywalker, Luke Skywalker's father, Anakin answered. He could hardly tell Solo he was Darth Vader, now could he? 

Luke's father is dead. He died in the clone wars. Now Solo was getting angry. Either this guy was delusional, or he was a liar. He didn't know which was worse. Luke would not lie to me. 

I would not think so. But he was misinformed himself, Anakin explained. 

Solo echoed in a sarcastic voice. Misinformed? You really have a way with words, you know. 

I have never been accused of being less than articulate, Anakin replied drily. 

Han decided to change the subject. Right. So we're just going to sit here until the guards fall asleep, you magick the door open, and we walk out of here? 

That was the general idea, yes. 

Don't tell me that was your first choice. 

No. I would have vastly preferred to put an end to Jabba, but that would probably have gotten you killed. I could not allow that. 

Hey, don't bother with me! I can watch out for myself, Solo sneered, turned around, and walked straight into the nearest wall. , he muttered under his breath. 

Anakin smirked. He found he was beginning to like this impossible pirate. Even blind and weak from his prolonged hibernation, the Correllian was fiercely independent. 

Solo wrapped his arms around himself and tried to stop shivering. Darn, he was freezing. His bones felt like they were made of ice - which they probably still were. His eyes weren't worth a dead Hutt's promise. And to top it all off, he was stuck in a cell with a madman. Great. Just great. 

, Anakin's deep voice said, and Solo felt something being wrapped around him. A heavy woolen cloak. He opened his mouth to protest, but Anakin cut him short: You won't be able to escape if you catch your death first. 

, Solo mumbled, grateful for the warmth the cloak provided, but reluctant to show his gratitude to his strange would-be rescuer. So, what's in it for you? Why are you so interested in keeping me alive and well? 

I have my reasons. 

Which means you're not going to tell me. Solo nodded. There was something strangely familiar about Anakin, and it was not any resemblance to Luke. In fact, the man could not be more different from the starry-eyed farm boy turned Rebel hero. Anakin exuded a calmness and self-confidence that Solo had rarely seen in any being, and his voice reminded Han of someone... someone dangerous. 

_ We would be honored if you would join us.   
The Empire will compensate you if he dies. Put him in. _

Bespin. Lando's betrayal. The torture. The agony of being frozen in carbonite. And the man who ordered all this, face hidden behind an emotionless steel mask, adding a metallic timbre to his deep voice. 

We've met before, haven't we? he asked. I know your voice... He let the rest of the sentence trail away. 

Anakin sighed. There was no hiding his identity from this man; even blind, Solo was too perceptive. Yes. Yes, Captain Solo, you know me. 

You bastard! Solo yelled, and lunged at the taller man, fist drawn back to deliver a blow to his now unprotected face. He was lucky; it felt like he hit the other right on the eye. 

Vader stumbled back, grunting in pain and surprise. He had not expected Solo to attack him, blind as he was. The back of his head connected painfully with the wall of their cell, and he slid down to the floor, momentarily stunned by the blow. 

Solo stood in the middle of the cell, breathing heavily, listening for anything that might tell him where Vader was. 

Anakin climbed to his feet again. I guess I deserved that, he commented. 

Solo homed in on the voice, and charged again. But this time, Vader caught his flailing arms and pinned them to his sides. 

Stop that, the Sith commanded angrily. You are not helping, Solo! 

Oh, yeah? Good! Solo retorted. He struggled against Vader's iron grip, but the other man was much stronger, almost inhumanly so. What do you want this time, Vader? Need a torture victim to lure Luke in again? He could feel Vader wince at his words. Good. He wanted him to hurt. He wanted Vader to hurt as badly as the Sith had hurt him. Solo pressed on. What did you do to him? Did you freeze him too? That was your plan, wasn't it? he hissed. When Vader did not answer, he continued: I know you're a liar, Vader. You can't be Luke's father - no father would do that to his own child. 

Vader barked, shoving Solo and his accusations away from him. He was trembling with rage. Do not continue, or I might forget myself, he warned. He breathed deeply, pushing back the anger that threatened to consume him. For once, Solo remained silent, and Vader was grateful for that. Perhaps he could be made to listen. 

I did not lie, Solo. Darth Vader is a Sith title. My name is Anakin Skywalker. He took another deep, steadying breath. Solo turned his face in the direction of his voice. Although blind, he seemed to be watching him. It felt strange. 

I did not even know I had a son until after Luke destroyed the Death Star, Anakin began. It would be a long and complicated tale, but he had the better part of the night to tell it. He doubted he could make Solo believe. The Correllian had every reason to distrust him. But he needed to make Solo understand in order to rescue him. Of course, he could always knock him out and carry him, but somehow the thought did not appeal to Anakin. He'd have to tell his tale someday anyway, why not now? 

----- 

To be continued 


	19. Contact

Force of Destiny 

** Force of Destiny **

** Summary: **   
An accident reveals an old deception, and Darth Vader must make a decision that will change not only his life. 

----- 

Chapter 18 

Contact 

The Death Star floated serenely in space, its finished half softly illuminated by the light reflected from the lush green moon of Endor. The unfinished half was jagged metal and open cavities yawning in the endless night of space. 

Although unfinished, the space station was far from defenseless. An invisible deflector shield stretched from the moon it orbited, wrapping itself around the Death Star, protecting the station from anything that might attack it before it was completed. 

Yet no-one aboard the station felt secure today, for the Emperor himself was on his way to inspect his newest weapon. 

The Emperor's personal shuttle was rapidly approaching the Death Star's main hangar bay. Petty Officers hurried to confirm the security code before deactivating the deflector shield, lest the Emperor's shuttle be caught in its web, while an honor guard of officers and troops gathered in the hangar. 

Moff Jerjerrod was at the center of the honor guard, nervously awaiting his Majesty. There was no question as to why the Emperor was coming here. Completion of the Death Star had fallen behind schedule. Jerjerrod had been facing all kinds of problems during the past months. There had been delays in delivery of crucial parts, and poor quality of materials. Accidents had cost several lives and put work behind schedule even more. 

And now the Emperor was coming to put them back on schedule. The Commander wondered why his Majesty undertook the task himself. There were several in his court who had the knowledge and authority. Personally, Jerjerrod would have preferred any of them over Palpatine himself, even the dreaded Lord Darth Vader. 

The shuttle set down smoothly, and Jerjerrod remembered to drop down on one knee to greet his Emperor. 

Preceded by his red robed guards, the shriveled form of Palpatine disembarked from the shuttle. Jerjerrod carefully kept his gaze cast downward until spoken to. 

"Rise, Commander", the Emperor ordered. "We are most displeased with your apparent lack of progress." 

"I beg your forgiveness, your Majesty, but I need more men." Jerjerrod's voice was coarse with fear. He cleared his throat and continued: "We are doing the best we can, but there are only so many hours in the day..." 

"Then I suggest you use them, Commander." The Emperor's voice lashed out like a whip. "This station must be operational as planned." Palpatine paused, for the first time looking directly at the tall, thin man in front of him. "We can soon expect an attack by the Rebel Alliance on this facility, Commander. You better have it fully operational by then." 

Jerjerrod gulped. "We shall double our efforts", he hurried to assure his Emperor. 

"I hope so, Commander. For your sake." 

----- 

"And you really expect me to believe this?" Han Solo asked incredulously when Anakin had finished his tale. "Let me give you some advice: Don't start a career as a holo drama writer." 

"Damn you, Solo!" Anakin growled. "I did not make this up." He grabbed Han's hand and pressed it to his face. "Did you think I was wearing that mask for fun?" 

Han Solo grew quiet as the implications of what Anakin had told him sank in. Damn, he was used to hating Darth Vader. And now he was sitting in the same cell with him, and Vader – Vader! – had been spilling his guts for the past hours, telling him the story of his life. Not all of it, obviously, but enough to make the Correllian understand. Han tried to hold on to his hatred, but found it slowly slipping away, being replaced by... what? Pity? Anakin would not want pity. Compassion? That sounded better. Compassion was acceptable. Han found he also felt a grudging admiration for the Sith. If only half of Anakin's tale was true, the man had been through hell and back. 

"Alright, let's say I believe you", he finally allowed. "What do you want with me, then? We're not exactly best buddies." 

"I am responsible for your predicament, Solo." 

"So what? Are you trying to make amends? Well, I'm honored to be the first on your list, but excuse me If I don't believe that's all there is to it." 

Anakin sighed. "You are correct", he admitted. "I do have an ulterior motive." "And that would be?" Solo prompted when Anakin did not continue, not really expecting him to answer the question. 

"I wish to join the Alliance. I was hoping that rescuing you would open a door for me." 

"Oh, wonderful", Solo commented. "Now I'm a bargaining chip." 

"More like a peace offering", Anakin corrected, a bit lamely. 

"Yeah", Solo sighed, and changed the subject. "Think we can leave this dump now?" 

"No." Anakin slowly shook his head. He had a strong feeling that the time was not right yet. "They are still too alert, and your eyesight could be better. I suggest you get some rest while I meditate." 

"Oh, sure", Han mumbled. "As if I could sleep with you in the same room." 

Anakin chuckled. "I assure you, Captain, my intentions toward you do not go beyond rescuing you from Jabba and bringing you back to your friends." He smiled evilly before dropping the other shoe. "Besides, your princess would neuter me if I tried anything funny." 

It was quite satisfying to see Solo's eyes widen. "Glad we understand each other", the Correllian croaked and settled down on the floor, as far away from the Sith as he could. There was no way he was going to be able to sleep now. 

Anakin relaxed his mind and body. Although he was getting tired, he, too, was not going to sleep. He needed to meditate, to let his mind be receptive to the ebb and flow of thought around them, to tell when it was safe for them to leave. He closed his eyes, stretching out with his feelings, allowing his mind to flow through the palace. He gently touched an alien consciousness here, a dream there, until he suddenly encountered another searching mind. His eyes snapped open. 

"Luke!" he gasped. 

Solo was on his feet the next moment. "Luke? Where?" he demanded. 

Anakin shot the Correllian an irritated glance. 

"Not here. I felt him through the Force", was his tight reply. 

"Oh. Well, can you talk to him?" 

"I might be able to communicate, if you can keep your mouth shut long enough", Anakin snapped, and silently added: And if Luke will allow the contact. 

"Alright, alright. Just tell him to stay the hell out of here, okay? We don't need to have to rescue the kid as well." 

Anakin rolled his eyes. "Don't you trust my son's abilities?" he asked. 

"Listen, your Lordship, I like Luke. I like him a lot. He's my friend. But he has this tendency to rush in head first and think about getting out of the detention area again later. Speaking of which... you're starting to remind me a lot of him." 

Anakin did not answer, but reached out again, and was pleasantly surprised to find Luke's presence eagerly waiting for the contact. 

_ Father... _

_ Son... _

A wealth of emotion passed between them. Anakin could clearly feel his son's desperate longing for a father, any father, and felt ashamed. 

_ I should have been there for you... I'm sorry, son. _

_ You didn't know. _

He could feel Luke's calm acceptance of the past, of him, even of what he had been, and it was a like a soothing balm for his soul. 

_ Where are you, father? _

Sharing a cell with your friend Solo in Jabba's palace. We'll break out as soon as things are calm enough around here. 

Anakin could sense a wave of pride coming from Luke. Pride in him. 

_ I sensed your distress, father. I knew you would come back. How is Han? _

Anakin's response was tinged with guilt. At laying his problems on Luke, and at having caused Solo's condition. At the time, Solo had just been a means to an end. Now Anakin realized his cruelty, not only to Solo himself, but to his friends as well. To Luke. 

_ Suffering from hibernation sickness. He's temporarily blind, but he'll recover. Quite a character, your friend. He says to tell you to stay the hell out of here. _

A low chuckle was Luke's answer to that. _ And not give Jabba the opportunity to get himself killed? _

_ You have a plan? _ Anakin thought back. Getting Solo out alive was his priority, but putting an end to that slime Jabba would be much more satisfying. 

_ I do. Stay put, we are coming for you. _

The contact ended as suddenly as it had begun, and for a moment, Anakin felt very alone. He took solace in the knowledge that it would not be for long. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, he leaned his head back against the cold stone wall. 

"What did he say?" Solo demanded. 

"They're coming for us. We're to stay put." Anakin tried to keep his voice steady. His son accepted him. It felt good. It felt like... like coming home! He stretched out on the floor and was sound asleep moments later. 

"Wonderful", Han grumbled when he heard the first soft snores emanate from Anakin. "Not only am I stuck in Jabba's palace with Darth Vader, who turns out to be my friend's dad, who, by the way, is going to get us all killed any time now, no, to top it all off, the guy just has to snore!" 

----- 

Luke opened his eyes and allowed his senses to let the outside world in again, one by one. He had made progress with his meditations, but still needed to shut out distractions in order to meditate properly. Tonight, he had almost lost his concentration for the first time in months, but not because of outside distractions. He had prepared for the mind-to-mind contact with his father since he first sensed him approaching Tattooine, but what he felt from the elder Skywalker still left his mind reeling. 

The barrage of emotions from his father was nearly overwhelming. A deep loneliness and fear of rejection were first, then shame at not being the kind of father Luke deserved, and, finally, unabashed joy when he sensed Luke's acceptance of him. It was too much to take in all at once, so Luke shoved the emotions to the back of his mind, intending to analyze and assimilate them all later. Right now, he needed to focus. 

Untangling his limbs from the lotus position, he stood and stretched. Dawn was approaching fast. He would send Leia and Chewie in today. 

----- 

Tomas Piett smoothed down the front of his uniform jacket for what seemed the hundredth time as his shuttle made its final approach to Home One. He wished Veers was here. He wished Lord Vader was here. Damn, why was he so nervous? Things looked a lot better than when he resigned his commission. 

Let's be honest, he thought. When you defected. 

At least the Rebel Alliance was not shooting at him. Yet. But would they believe the evidence he brought? They had every reason not to trust a former Imperial officer. 

The shuttle landed with barely a jolt. Piett got up, wiped sweaty palms on his trouser legs, and gathered up his reports and holo cubes. 

----- 

Several people were waiting for Piett outside the shuttle. An armed guard, naturally. A tall, stately woman with short red hair. Piett recognized her as Mon Mothma, elected leader of the Rebel Alliance. Next to her stood another familiar figure, General Crix Madine. He, too, was a former Imperial officer. Madine had defected when his assignments with Special Forces became too much even for him to stomach. At least that was what the rumors said. Standing on Mothma's other side was Admiral Ackbar. Of him, Piett knew very little, except that he had been Grand Moff Tarkin's slave before making a name for himself as one of the Alliance's best military leaders. 

Piett covered the distance with quick strides, noticing Rebel pilots and technicians gather in small groups, watching him. Additional security, or lack of discipline? He could not tell. The Alliance certainly functioned differently from the Imperial military. For starters, all these men and women were volunteers. There were no conscripts in the Alliance. And while the Imperial military was made up almost exclusively of Human males, the Alliance seemed to have quite a share of females and non-Humans among their ranks. Piett briefly wondered how his crew would fit in with this motley group. 

"Admiral Piett. It is a pleasure to meet you", Mon Mothma greeted him. 

Piett bowed. "The pleasure is all mine, Madam." Turning to Ackbar, he added: "I was looking forward to finally meeting you in person, Admiral. I have been studying your tactics." 

Ackbar inclined his head in acknowledgement. "I could say the same, Admiral. I believe we had the same teacher in Lord Vader." 

Piett smiled. "Yes. I recognized the maneuver you adapted in the battle of Kintan from the reports. Lord Vader used a similar tactic several years ago." 

"It's as well that neither he nor you commanded the Imperial forces that day. We would have been hard pressed against anyone who could surmise what we were planning." 

"Admiral, a conference room on this level has been readied. If you would follow us, we can discuss your surrender in a less public setting", Madine interjected. 

"I did not come to surrender, General", Piett corrected him, "but to offer my services and those of my ship and crew." 

Before Madine could answer, Mothma laid a hand on his arm. "That is what we are going to discuss. And, of course, the current whereabouts of Lord Vader." 

"Of course." 

----- 

[Previous chapter][1]
[Next chapter][2]

   [1]: chapter17.html
   [2]: chapter19.html



	20. Final Preparations

Chaper 19 

** Force of Destiny **

_ Sorry about the delay. A certain Egyptian gentleman distracted me. In other words: If you haven't seen "The Mummy Returns" yet, go watch it – it's a blast! :-) On with the story... _

** Chapter 19 **

Final preparations 

*** 

Luke Skywalker debated how much he should tell Chewie and Leia. Should they know they were about to join forces with their most hated enemy? Or would it be better if they knew nothing of their new ally? It was not an easy decision; both possible courses presented danger to Han's rescue, and to his father. 

"Luke? We're ready!" Leia called. 

The young Jedi turned around; Leia, standing just outside the doorway, was garbed in a bounty hunter's armor, helmet tucked under her arm. As bulky as the armor was, it could not hide her petite frame. It would, however, effectively hide the fact that Leia was Human and female. 

Luke nodded, satisfied with what he saw. 

"There is one more thing", he began, his decision made. He would simply let the Force guide him. "We have a new ally. Try not to kill him, okay?" 

A frown crossed Leia's features. There it was again, that strange feeling that Luke was going to betray them. 

"Who is he?" she demanded to know. 

Luke slowly shook his head. "That I cannot tell you. The Force does not show me everything." It was not exactly a lie, not completely at least. There were still many things he could not see through the Force, and he knew that would always be so, no matter how much his powers grew. He still wanted to gag. It was the kind of half-truth that Obi-Wan had told him. The kind that almost made him kill his father. The kind that made him sick to his stomach. "You better go now, Leia. Chewie is waiting for you." 

*** 

Darth Vader woke up to the sound of somebody snoring and looked around. He was still sharing a cell in Jabba's palace with that smuggler, Solo. No sunlight filtered into the shabby underground room, but Vader's time sense told him it must be early afternoon. Solo turned over in his sleep, snoring even louder. 

Figures, he thought. Not only is he a smuggler, a pirate and a rebel, no, he just has to snore! Wonder what the princess sees in him. 

Vader stretched, a small smile gracing his face. Wonder what her father would think about that scoundrel, he thought. Bail Organa would certainly not have approved of Leia's choice; he could easily see in his mind's eye the sour expression on the Alderaanian's countenance. 

Leia's adventurous nature and quick temper had gotten her into trouble with her more conservative and cautious father more than once. Although she did her best to please her father and be the princess and senator he expected her to be, she obviously took after her mother Saché, who had been one of Queen Amidala's handmaidens. 

It had been on Sachés insistence that Leia be trained in self-defense, and the young princess quickly became as proficient as her mother. As the other handmaidens. As Amidala. The uncanny resemblance Leia had to her mother more than once unsettled Vader, especially when combined with action that Amidala might have taken. For all her handmaidens bore that resemblance to the Queen, and thus, Leia did as well. 

It was like a glimpse into the past. Or into the might-have-been, for it was easy to imagine how any daughter of his and Padmé's would have been just like Leia. 

He sighed, pushing away the unwelcome thoughts. He could not change past mistakes. He could only hope to make up for some of them. 

He got up from his place on the floor, grumbling about the pain of cramped muscles in his back. Sleeping on a cold stone floor did that to you. Well, it could not be helped. Jabba's dungeon was no luxury hotel with all the trappings of a health resort. It was more likely to have booby traps. Room service left a lot to be desired, too. They would probably be left to rot in this cell without food or water, unless Jabba was planning one of his sick little entertainments. In this case, a guard would bring water and leftover food some time in the evening. Just enough to keep them alive and in reasonably good shape until they could die for Jabba's and his court's amusement. 

Vader licked dry lips and cocked his head, stretching his senses to get a feel of the palace's inhabitants. What he encountered encouraged him. Jabba and his court were sleeping away the afternoon hours. Even the guards were dozing in the oppressive heat. 

Smiling, he walked over to the cell door. The lock proved to be no challenge for his Force skills, and the single guard in the hallway was already dreaming of a place with a much cooler and moister climate. 

*** 

"You realize, Admiral, that this is hard to believe", Mon Mothma said after Piett had finished his tale. 

"Believe it", the Admiral answered. "It was quite a shock to learn to what extremes the Emperor would go. I don't presume to know how Lord Vader must feel about all this. But I do know that he will join you, and my men and I wish to do the same." 

"Still...", Mothma began again, but Piett interrupted her: "Madam, I fully understand your reservations. I've shown you what proof I have. Now I must ask for your trust." 

"You understand we will have to examine your so-called proof", Madine, who had so far been silent, interjected. 

"Of course, General. I expect no less from you." 

"In addition, we will send a prize crew aboard your ship, Admiral", Ackbar chimed in. 

Piett nodded. "That is also acceptable. In fact, we are a little short on personnel right now, so if it's not too much trouble, I would like to ask that you assign men who can later be fully integrated into my crew." 

The request caused a scowl to appear on Madine's face. "You seem to be quite certain that the Alliance will take your offer, Admiral." 

"You would be a fool not to, General." 

"Gentlemen, please! I am sure Admiral Piett understands that we have to bring his proposal before the Alliance council before a decision is made. After all, the Executor is not just any ship." 

"We are in agreement, then." Piett stood up. "One last request, Gentlemen, Madam." 

"Yes, Admiral?" 

"We believe that Lord Vader is on Tattooine at the moment, trying to rescue Captain Solo. A team has already been dispatched to assist him. However, if they are not back within the next three days, I need to send a search and rescue team after them." 

Madine nearly jumped up, but Mon Mothma's restraining hand on his forearm stopped him. 

"Then let us hope that Lord Vader does not interfere with our own team. I am not certain how Commander Skywalker or Princess Leia will take his meddling in this", she said. Piett tried not to look too worried. 

*** 

Han Solo lay silently listening. There was no sound coming from his cell mate. Had Vader died in his sleep? Or had the Sith simply decided he wasn't worth rescuing after all and left without him? Cursing, the Correllian opened his eyes and looked around. His vision was still blurry, and the cell only dimly lit by what little light filtered in through the peep-hole in the door, but he was in fact alone. Vader was nowhere to be seen. 

"That double-crossing, slimy sonofabitch!" Solo cursed. He could have kicked himself for falling asleep in the first place. Leave it to Vader to pull such a dirty trick on him! 

"Anybody I know?" a deep voice asked. Solo spun around, squinting into the semi-darkness. 

"Where the Sith-hell are you?" he hissed. He got his answer when the lock on the cell door clicked open, and Vader entered with a large bundle under his arm, pulling the door shut behind him. 

"Are you crazy? We could have gotten out of here!" 

"I see you are feeling better", Vader observed. "How is your eyesight?" 

"Forget my eyesight! How'd you... why..." Solo spluttered. 

"Luke said to stay put." Vader smirked. "He didn't say we had to starve." 

Solo looked at him as if he had lost his mind. "What?" 

"I raided the kitchens. Want some chicken?" Vader settled down on the floor and opened the bundle, which turned out to be a napkin filled with chicken legs, bread, assorted fruit, a large waterskin, and even a thermos that contained coffee. "No plates, I'm afraid, and we have to share the cup. So, do you want some chicken?" 

Instead of an answer, Han Solo started to thump his head against the wall. 

*** 

A blaster shot rang out in Jabba's main audience hall, causing the revelers to pause. Several drew their own weapons as a small figure descended the stairs, dragging a tall Wookie behind her on a chain. 

The small figure greeted Jabba in a gruff voice, using an obscure Outer Rim dialect: "I have come for the bounty on this Wookie." 

"At last we have the mighty Chewbacca", Jabba answered in the same language, and called for 3PO to translate. The droid hurried to his new master's side. 

"Yes, your worshipfulness?" he asked. If Jabba even understood the jibe, he did not react to it. Instead, he said something in Hutteese which 3PO dutifully translated: "The mighty Jabba bids you welcome, and will gladly pay you the reward of twenty-five thousand credits." 

"Fifty thousand. No less", the bounty hunter answered, still in his own language. When he heard the translation, Jabba let out a roar of rage, his arm hitting C3PO, sending the droid stumbling backwards. Flustered by this reaction, 3PO got back to his feet and approached the gangster again. 

"What did I say?" he mumbled. The Hutt did not answer, but growled a question of himself with barely restrained anger. 

"The mighty Jabba asks why he must pay fifty thousand", 3PO translated. 

At this, the small bounty hunter produced a silvery sphere. 3PO instantly recognized it: "Because he is holding a thermal detonator!" To his surprise and dismay, Jabba just laughed while everybody else was cowering, trying to find cover. Everybody but Boba Fett, who raised his own weapon. 

"This bounty hunter is my kind of scum", Jabba declared, still laughing. "Fearless and inventive. Tell him thirty-five thousand, and not to push his luck." 

Again, 3PO translated, and the small bounty hunter deactivated his thermal detonator in agreement and put it away. The whole court started to breathe again. The band picked up their tune again, and a howling Chewbacca was taken away by the Gamorrean guards. 

*** 

The guards dragged and pushed Chewbacca down the corridor to the cells, poking him with their weapons every few seconds for good measure. It more than irritated the Wookiee. He would have loved to tear these lowlifes apart, but he had to stick with Luke's plan. Not for the first time, he wondered who their new ally was, and hoped the plan would go off without a hitch. He had noticed that Han was not anymore where he should have been according to Lando's report; it meant another variable in the plan, and he did not like it one bit. Still, he trusted Luke. The cub would do anything for his friends, just like Chewbacca would do anything to rescue his partner. 

They finally reached a cell almost at the end of the corridor, and Chewie found himself shoved into it without further ado. Cautiously, he sniffed the air. You never knew what you might find in Jabba's dungeon. It smelled like... fried chicken? He sniffed again. Definitely chicken, and coffee, and Han! Chewbacca could not hold back a howl of joy. 

"Chewie? Chewie, is that you?" a voice came from the dark corners of the room. Han's voice! Howling even louder, Chewbacca ran towards his Human friend and, throwing his arms around him, squeezed him with all his might. 

"Ow! Chewie, let go, you're breaking my ribs!" Han gasped, squirming in his friends grip. Sometimes, Chewbacca simply forgot his own strength. "Good to see you too, buddy. How is everybody doing?" 

The Wookiee growled and jabbered a reply. 

"Yeah, I know Luke has a plan. Has everybody gone crazy, or what? The kid can't even take care of himself, let alone rescue anybody else!" Solo complained. 

"I care to disagree, Captain", another voice answered. 

Chewie pushed Han behind him, again sniffing. Was this their mysterious new ally? He smelled strange, and yet familiar. 

"Oh, what do you know?" Han dismissed the other man's words. 

"Much has happened in the meantime, Captain. Luke has learned a lot. He is not the kid you knew anymore." He sounded almost sad, but at the same time, proud. 

Chewbacca breathed in again, trying to puzzle out the different smells. Sun tan lotion... that wasn't right... leather... metal... the deep voice also was familiar... Vader! 

With an outraged scream, Chewbacca pounced on the Sith Lord, his hands closing around Vader's neck, lifting him off the ground. He would crush Vader's windpipe, squeeze the life out of that monster! 

"Chewie, wait!" Han shouted. "He's on our side!" 

*** 

To be continued 


	21. Reunion

Chaper 20  _Welcome back to the latest installment of "Force of Destiny", and thank you all for the kind reviews. You guys are the best!   
Don't you worry, though, I am going to finish this story, come hell, high water, or undead Egyptian High Priests! :-)   
But you have to give me some time here. And no, I will not take any shortcuts just to finish quickly, since it would ruin the story. Remember: Patience is a virtue. ;-) _

And now: Lean back and enjoy! 

*** 

**Force of Destiny **

Chapter 20 

Reunion 

*** 

Wrenga Jixton and Maximillian Veers had found the moisture farm without problems, following Vader's directions. What they found, however, had not been very encouraging. The farm had obviously been attacked and fire set to it several years ago. Two shallow graves marked the fact that there had been at least one survivor, or else a kind soul who would not leave the bodies of the owners to rot in the sun. What remained had been looted and picked over by the Sandpeople and the Jawas in the intervening years, leaving only the buildings themselves intact and a few permanent fixtures that neither tribe had any use for. Sandstorms had done the rest. 

The two men had a busy first day cleaning out the rubble and the ever-present sand from the buildings. Several trips to the nearby town of Anchorhead on the second day were required to replace at least some of the most crucial equipment, including the vaporators. Jixton and Veers had found the underground water tanks empty, the vaporators that filled them gone, stolen like almost everything else that the fire had not destroyed. Jixton also had the tanks filled to a quarter of their capacity. He did not like sitting without water in the middle of a desert one bit. 

Veers had protested against using their funds to buy so much water, but Jixton argued that it would look strange to the locals if they did not fill the tanks. The younger man had quickly picked up that the locals believed they had bought the Lars farm, as they called it, and would start planting crops as soon as possible. However, that took more water than the vaporators could provide until the planting season started. A quarter tank was the absolute minimum. 

Veers finally had to agree; although they would not stay long, it was best to keep a low profile by simply filling the expectations of the locals. Anchorhead was a closely knit community; even for the short duration of their mission, they needed to blend in as good as possible lest they gave cause for suspicion. 

Now Jixton was sitting in the pit in front of what used to be the common room, enjoying the afternoon sun slanting over the rim and smoking a pipe. Some rest and relaxation was in order after all his hard work, thank you very much! Veers was puttering around in the kitchen, complaining about Jixton's choice in supplies. 

"Did you have to go on an all-out shopping trip?" he called. 

Jixton sighed. Veers was a battle commander, not a field agent, and it showed. 

"I told you the folks here hoard staple foods. It would look funny to them if we didn't", he replied. 

"Yes, but a three month supply of beans? And dried Dewback meat? And what is that grain you bought? Couldn't you at least get something decent?" 

"That grain is called emmer, and I did get you your precious coffee as well, thank you very much", Jixton grumbled back. "Besides, we don't know how long we are going to be stuck here, and this stuff will at least keep." 

"Don't tell me you're planning on an extended vacation on sunny Tattooine?" 

Jixton laughed and stretched out his long legs in front of him. 

"I'm not", he assured Veers. "But you never know what will happen until tomorrow." 

Veers stepped out of the kitchen, curiously regarding Jix. 

"Is there something you're not telling me?" he asked. 

"Only that we're about to enter the sandstorm season. It might make getting back to Mos Eisley difficult." 

Veers rolled his eyes. Wonderful! Sandstorms, now that was something Veers could definitely live without. Did it ever occur to Jixton to share information without being prodded? How in the seven Sith hells did Vader put up with the obnoxious Correllian? 

*** 

"Put him down, Chewie!" Solo yelled, trying to get a grip on the Wookiee's massive forearm. Chewbacca roared and shook his Human friend off, but his death grip on Vader's throat had somewhat loosened, allowing the former Dark Lord to get his hands between the Wookiee's fingers and break his grip. Gasping for air, Vader landed on his feet and attempted a defensive position. Chewbacca's attack had rattled him worse than he cared to admit. When the Wookiee's thick fingers closed around his neck and he found himself unable to breath, the thought of using the Force had not even entered his suddenly panicked brain. Instead, he had kicked and struggled against his larger and stronger opponent, depleting his bodies oxygen reserves until dark spots danced in his vision. 

The Wookiee stepped back, growling a question in Solo's direction. His fur was almost standing on end. Coughing, Vader massaged his abused neck. 

"Yes, he thawed me, Chewie", Solo answered his friend. "I think he's serious about this. Give him a break, will ya?" 

The Wookiee growled again, obviously upset with Solo. 

"No, I don't trust Vader!" Solo protested. "I'm just willing to give the man a chance, okay?" 

Chewbacca still eyed Vader with suspicion. 

"I would prefer it if you called me Anakin", Vader croaked, and coughed again. "Unless you want Jabba to squeal my whereabouts to the Empire. Of course, that would bring half the Imperial Fleet down on us." 

"Good point, Anakin", Solo conceded. "So you think they're already searching for you?" 

Vader almost laughed. "Of course they are. The Emperor knows, and that means Imperial Intelligence knows. And Black Sun. I bet Xizor already placed a bounty on my head." 

Solo blanched; he knew the name Xizor, and he knew the Falleen's reputation. So far, he had been careful to avoid crossing him and his organization. Han Solo knew what was good for his health. Jabba was bad enough, but compared to Xizor the Hutt was small fish. 

"What have you got to do with Black Sun?" he asked. 

Anakin grimaced. "Nothing. Xizor and I are... old acquaintances. He has been trying to get my job for a number of years." 

Solo whistled. "He's got nerve", he commented. 

"Yes, and the Emperor's ear in too many matters", Anakin replied darkly. 

"Figures", Solo muttered. "So, what is Luke's great plan?" he asked Chewie. The Wookiee growled and pointedly looked at Anakin. 

Han threw his hands up in despair. "Fine! If you're going to be difficult about this, we can just sit here and wait some more! At the rate we're going, we'll all be sharing this cell come morning!" 

Anakin gave an amused chuckle. "You know, Solo, I would not put it past Luke to plan exactly on that." 

"Huh?" 

Anakin shrugged. "I would. It's not the worst position to start the escape from, you know." 

Solo shook his head. "Tell me, is insanity a requirement for Jedi, or do you pick it up during training?" he asked in a caustic voice, bringing a grin to Anakin's face. 

"What is insanity, but a different point of view?" he asked lightly. 

"Wonderful! Now he's getting all philosophical again", Solo muttered, retreating to the nearest corner where he sat down to wait. The other two followed his example, keeping a careful distance from each other. 

*** 

Leia, still in her bounty hunter's get-up, wandered around the reception hall. Several of Jabba's lackeys tried to strike up a conversation, but she made it clear that she was not interested in small talk. Instead, she tried to familiarize herself with the place without arousing suspicion. Strangely, nobody seemed to mind, although she believed her attempts to be clumsy at best. It was only when she caught Boba Fett's appreciative nod that she understood. Any bounty hunter worth her salt would do exactly that – familiarize herself with the place, look for escape routes. It was expected of her. Fett finally turned away, chatting up one of the dancers. Leia relaxed somewhat. If even the master hunter bought her disguise, there was not much that could go wrong at this stage. 

*** 

Night had fallen again, and the party at Jabba's palace wore on until well after midnight. Leia kept to the shadows, not taking part in the drinking and gambling. She would need a clear head later. 

The princess had started to think that the feast would go on until morning when, finally, things started to wind down. One after the other, the revelers would go off to their individual quarters. Those too drunk for the short trip to their rooms simply went to sleep in the reception hall, or rather, they passed out. Leia waited until the last of them had either left or was snoring under a table before she silently crept into the corridor that led to the dungeons. 

*** 

Once out of the hall, Leia silently and swiftly made her way toward the cells. The guard on duty had long since fallen asleep, assisted by a bottle provided by Lando. A quick examination revealed that he did not have any keys on him. So she would have to do it the hard way. Peering into the peep holes in each cell door, Leia finally reached the only cell occupied at the moment. 

"Han?" she whispered, her voice distorted by the helmet. "Chewie?" 

A low growl answered her, and three figures crowded against the door. A tall Human – not Han – pushed himself in front of the others. Studying her diminutive form, he smirked. 

"Aren't you a little short for a bounty hunter?" he asked. 

"Save it, Anakin", Solo piped up from behind him, trying to get in front of the taller man. "Who are you?" 

Han! Finally! Taking off her helmet, Leia smiled the first true smile in months. "Someone who loves you", she responded. 

"Leia!" Solo plastered himself against the door. 

"We have to get you out of here. Step back", she ordered, and leveled her blaster at the lock. 

"No, wait, they'll hear", Anakin warned in a hushed whisper, but too late. Han had hurriedly stepped back, and Leia blasted the door. The door, minus the lock and a good portion of the doorframe, swung open, and Solo was the first to jump through, gathering Leia in his arms and pressing a quick kiss on her lips. 

"Come on! Let's go!" he called to the other two. 

"Great. Just great. Between your shouting and her blasting everything in sight, the whole palace will know we're breaking out!" Anakin muttered. 

Leia gave him a hard stare. "Did you have any better ideas for opening the door?" 

"I could have picked the lock, your Highness." 

"With what? A lock of Chewie's fur?" Leia shook her head. "Come on now, unless you enjoy Jabba's hospitality so much. I hear he provides entertainment for his guests. Unfortunately, you would be the entertainment." Turning on her heel, she led the three down the corridor, up a flight of stairs and back into the main hall. There was no other way out except through the maze of kitchens and store rooms, which Leia did not dare navigate in the darkness with her limited knowledge of the place. No, the reception hall was their quickest way to freedom. 

They had crossed half the expanse of the room when they heard deep, guttural laughter. Guards jumped from the shadows and surrounded them, blasters trained on the four would-be escapees. 

"Is it just me, or have we gone through this before?" Solo uttered. Anakin gave him a look that clearly said 'I told you so' and raised his hands over his head. 

*** 

To be continued 


	22. The Rancor

Chapter 21  **Force of Destiny **

Chapter 21 

The Rancor 

*** 

Two of the guards stepped forward and disarmed Leia. They were about to push the princess back to stand with the two men and the Wookiee when a barked command from Jabba stopped them. 

"Bring her to me!" 

To Han's dismay, Leia was dragged forward and shoved roughly against the Hutt's swollen belly. He tried to follow, to rescue his princess from the vile gangster, but two pairs of strong hands stopped him. He had to watch in impotent rage as Jabba's tongue darted out and the Hutt placed a slobbering kiss on Leia's mouth. The princess bent backwards, intent on escaping the Hutt's repulsive affections, but she, too, was held in a grip too strong to break. 

"You will regret this. We have powerful friends", Leia choked out between gritted teeth. 

Jabba leered at her. "Soon you will learn to appreciate me", he promised in his native language. 

"Take the men away. And dress the girl in something more appropriate", Jabba ordered, the leer evident even in his voice. 

Han struggled against the hands holding him back, but to no avail. Anakin and Chewbacca were both much stronger than him. 

*** 

The massive iron gates to Jabba's palace rumbled upward, revealing a black-robed figure against the light of the twin suns rising. Luke Skywalker strode purposefully into the hall. Two Gamorrean guards stepped forward to block his way. Luke gazed calmly at the advancing guards and lifted his hand, gathering the Force around him. The two guards choked, suddenly unable to breathe, and stumbled back. Releasing them from his invisible grip, Luke strode past them. The guards did not follow, thoroughly cowed by the Jedi's display of his powers. 

The next obstacle in Luke's path arose in the form of Bib Fortuna, Jabba's Twi'Lek majordomo. 

"You may not pass", Fortuna told him in Hutteese. 

"I am here to speak to Jabba", Luke answered. 

"The great Jabba is asleep." 

Luke held the Twi'Leks gaze with his own and once more employed the Force, this time to bend the other's will to his own. "You will take me to Jabba now", he intoned. 

Fortuna's yellowish eyes glazed over. "I will take you to Jabba now", he parroted and turned to lead the Jedi to his master. 

"You serve your master well", Luke observed with a smug grin. "You will be rewarded." 

Pleased, Fortuna echoed the Jedi's words and hurried along. 

*** On a farm not far from the palace, as planetary distances go, two men loaded weapons and equipment into a speeder. 

"Hurry up, Jixton", Veers commanded. "We have quite a distance to cover to the palace. We got to be going if we want to make it till noon." 

"We're not taking the main road", Jix replied, lugging another bag with thermal detonators into the speeder's back seat. "Don't want to announce that we're coming." 

"Of course not. What was I thinking", Veers muttered. "It's still quite a distance if we're going through the desert. We have to go around the mountains." 

"Not quite, General. There is a shortcut through the canyons. Of course, it's creeping with Sandpeople, so you want to keep your blaster ready", the ex- sergeant and mercenary grinned, hefting a blaster rifle and checking the charge on the weapon's magazine. 

Veers rolled his eyes. "Of course", he sighed. 

*** 

In the main hall, the Hutt slept on a raised dais, his new slave Leia, now adorned in a dancer's costume, chained to him. She, too, was dozing, preserving her energy for the fight she knew would come later. 

Luke stepped in front of the dais, waiting for Fortuna to wake the Hutt from his slumber. For a moment, his gaze rested on Leia. How thin she had become. Those past months had been hard on her. He silently reached out to her. Soon, my friend, he thought. Soon, sweet Leia. 

Fortuna climbed onto the dais and whispered into Jabba's ear. The Hutt's eyes snapped open. 

"Finally! Master Luke has come to rescue me!" C3PO shouted from his place at Jabba's elbow. No-one listened to him. 

"Master - Luke Skywalker, Jedi Knight", Fortuna introduced Luke in a smooth voice. 

"Fool!" Jabba roared, "I told you not to let him in!" 

Luke took a step closer. "I must be allowed to speak", he said quietly, focussing his mental powers. 

"He must be allowed to speak", Fortuna repeated, still under Luke's influence. 

"Fool! He's using an old Jedi mind trick!" Jabba thundered. 

"You will bring my friends to me", Luke said and tried to get a grip on Jabba's mind. 

Jabba sneered. "Your mental powers don't work on me, boy." 

"Nevertheless, I will take Captain Solo and my friends with me. You can either profit from this, or you can die. The choice is yours. But I warn you not to underestimate my powers." 

Jabba hollered with laughter; this little Jedi had guts! To bad he was going to die. 

"There will be no deal, Jedi. I will enjoy watching you die!" he roared. 

Luke started into action, stretching out his hand and ripping the blaster from one of the guards with the Force just as Jabba hit the switch that opened the trap door beneath the Jedi's feet. Luke tumbled down into the dungeon, along with a Gamorrean guard who immediately started to scream and scrambled for the blaster. Luke let him; he could always retrieve the weapon from him if he needed it. For now, he stepped back, freeing himself from his long robe and looked around, taking in his surroundings. 

He was in a roughly hewn stone room, the floor covered with gnawed bones. The air was filled with the stench of rotting flesh. A large grate was on the far side of the room, the only access to the room except for the trap door in the ceiling. Now the grate opened, and there was movement in the darkness beyond it. Something large was coming. The Gamorrean screamed in fear, trying to scramble up the walls to escape the horror that shambled through the iron gate. 

The Rancor, a reptilian monster half the size of a Bantha, clicked its long razor-sharp claws and gnashed its mouth filled with equally sharp teeth. It was a nightmare come to life. And it advanced on Luke. 

The young Jedi Knight fell back, his gaze darting from one side to the other, searching for a way to escape his certain death by the creature. The Rancor, however, was not interested in Luke at all. At least, not yet. The Gamorrean's screams had wakened the creature's hunting instincts, and its hunger. With a speed that belied its bulk as well as its shambling gait, the Rancor reached the guard and grabbed him with one taloned paw, bringing him up to its giant mouth and biting the pig-like Gamorrean in half. The squeals stopped immediately. 

In two giant gulps, the Gamorrean was gone, and the Rancor began to look for more food. Its gaze fell on Luke Skywalker. 

Luke scrambled back, keeping as much distance as possible between himself and the creature. What he would not give to have his lightsaber now! But the weapon was safely stored inside a compartment in R2D2's head, out of reach for now. He would have to make do with what he found here. His eyes darted around, searching for the blaster the guard had dropped in his death throes. There it was... unfortunately, "there" was under the Rancor's clawed foot, and "it" was a twisted mass of metal, barely recognizable as a blaster anymore. Damn. 

Luke's searching hand touched a long bone, remains of an earlier victim, and grabbed it. Holding it in front of him like a lightsaber, Luke let the Rancor advance on him. He had only one chance. 

The monster grabbed Luke around the waist with one giant claw and effortlessly lifted the young Jedi up to its gaping maw. Lightning-quick, Luke rammed the thigh bone between the snapping jaws, blocking them. The Rancor screamed and dropped its recalcitrant meal, hunger forgotten for the moment. Clawing at its own mouth it attempted to get rid of the bone. Diving between the Rancor's legs, Luke managed to get behind the giant creature and threw himself into the entranceway, only to find his path to safety blocked by another gate. 

With brute strength, the Rancor snapped the bone in half. Its small brain could only focus on one task at the time, and it only now remembered the meal that had temporarily escaped. Screeching in anger and frustration, it turned around, scanning the room with crazed eyes. 

Luke froze as the Rancor fixed its beady eyes on him again. This time, there was no room to escape from the creature. He had to find another way. 

The creature advanced with long steps, and within seconds reached the first gate just as Luke saw a possibility to kill it. Grabbing a skull from the ground, the Jedi threw the morbid projectile on a control panel, smashing it, resulting in the first gate crashing down on the Rancor's neck. The creature was killed almost instantly. Luke let out a breath he did not remember holding and slumped back against the rough wall next to the second gate. Jabba's enraged scream rang in his ears. 

*** 

Hands bound behind their backs, Anakin, Han and Chewbacca were dragged unceremoniously before the Hutt were they were joined by Luke, who was equally manacled. 

"Luke! How's it going?" Han cried in greeting. 

"Same as always", Luke replied, smiling. 

"That bad, huh?" the Correllian quipped. 

Anakin smiled as well. He was finally with his son. "Luke", he said simply, reaching out with his mind at the same time, offering a more personal greeting. 

"Father", Luke acknowledged before turning to face Jabba. 

"Talk droid", the gangster rumbled. 3PO answered the summons. 

"I am here, your high exaltedness." 

The Hutt spoke in his native language, voice shaking with anger, and the droid translated: "The great Jabba has decreed that you will all die immediately for this outrage." 

"Good! I hate long waits", Anakin joked. On Han's stare, he shrugged. "I always had trouble showing patience, or so I'm told", he explained. 

Slightly flustered by the interruption, 3PO continued: "You will be brought to the Dune sea and thrown into the Great Pit of Carcoon, the resting place of the all-powerful Sarlacc. In his belly, you will learn a new dimension of pain and suffering, as you are slowly digested over the course of a thousand years." 

"On second thought, let's pass on that", Solo muttered. Chewie growled his agreement. Only Anakin seemed unperturbed. 

"Aren't you afraid we'll give your pet indigestion?" he called as the guards dragged him away. 

*** 

To be continued 


	23. The Pit

Force of Destiny -  ** Force of Destiny **

Chapter 22 

The Pit 

A herd of wild Banthas slowly lumbered through the desert, following a trail as old as time to their grazing grounds when the lead female suddenly lifted her massive head and sniffed the air. A low rumble emanated from the animal's chest, and the whole herd changed direction to avoid the thing that crossed their path. 

A few dunes away, Jabba's sail barge drifted across that ancient path, accompanied by two smaller skiffs. On one of the skiffs, Luke and Anakin Skywalker, Han Solo, and Chewbacca stood manacled and surrounded by guards and, of course, Lando Calrissian. The second skiff held more guards, rough looking individuals of several different species. They had only two things in common: They worked for Jabba, and they were armed to the teeth. 

Han shifted his weight; he was still not convinced that the kid would not get them all killed. So far, Luke's plan sounded a lot like one of Lando's hare-brained schemes. Han found himself wishing for some of Anakin's confidence in the young Jedi. Of course, he's always known that Vader wasn't firing on all thrusters. Bespin had proved that. Han nervously shifted his weight again. At least his eyes were getting better. Fat lot of good it did them in their current predicament. 

"Not much to see here", he commented. "Sand, sand, and more sand." 

A small smile graced Luke's lips. He understood Han's uneasiness. 

"I grew up here, you know", he said. 

"And now you're gonna die here. Convenient", Han sneered. 

"I would not bet on that, Solo", Anakin interjected in his deep voice. "I have complete trust in my son's ability to rescue us." 

Han turned around to face Anakin, seeing him for the first time in full sunlight. A tall man, muscular, with a thin scar on his otherwise handsome face and another on his scalp, bald except for the first hint of blond stubble. Pale skin rapidly turning red under the glare of Tattooine's twin suns. Strikingly blue eyes, very much like Luke's, one of which was nearly swollen shut. So he had hit him in the eye back in the cell in Jabba's palace. 

"I don't see you using your Jedi powers to free us", Han spat. 

Anakin smiled. "Relax, Captain. We will get out of here in one piece." 

"I can hardly wait." 

On the sail barge, Jabba was resting on another raised dais, twin to the one he had in his throne room, his new Human slave Leia chained to him. The party was still in full swing, his guests anticipating a true killer entertainment. 3PO busied himself translating for those who did not speak a common language, drifting from one table to the next as those he served discovered they had nothing to talk about, or better things to do with each other than talk. On one of his circuits, the tall droid literally bumped into an old friend. 

"R2D2! What are you doing here?" he demanded to know. 

The smaller droid twittered something. 

"I can see you're serving drinks. But this place is dangerous. They are going to execute Master Luke, and if we are not careful, us too." 

R2D2 beeped a short reply. 

"I wish I had your confidence", 3PO muttered, watching as R2 made his way through the crowd. 

Behind him, Jabba laughed and pulled Leia closer to him on her chain. Soon enough, the little Human would learn to appreciate him. For now, he was content to see her struggle futilely against him. 

A small speeder raced out of the canyons and into the open desert. Maximillian Veers was desperate to reach Jabba's palace exactly at noon. He had been itching to take action ever since this mission began. Lord Vader should never have gone alone into the gangster's stronghold. In the copilot's seat, Wrenga Jixton calmly checked his weapon again. Unbeknownst to both men, the Pit of Carcoon was directly between them and the palace. And they were much closer to seeing Darth Vader again than they thought. 

The three antigravity ships slowed down, having reached their destination. For Luke, Anakin, Han and Chewie, it was supposed to be their final destination. The skiff they were on swung in an elegant arc around and over the Great Pit of Carcoon, allowing Jabba and his guests the best possible view of the execution. Music wafted over from the sail barge, suddenly louder as the shutters on the observation deck were opened and a myriad of eyes peered out at them. 

Two guards untied Luke and shoved him onto a plank protruding from the side of the skiff. Looking down, Luke could see the mouth of the Sarlacc, a pinkish, moist hole about eight feet in diameter, surrounded by tendrils waving lazily in the pre-noon heat. As he watched, the tendrils' movements seemed to gain purpose, the large beast under the sand smelling the meat above it. He stepped out on the plank. 

On the sail barge, 3PO stepped up to a microphone and relayed Jabba's message to his prisoners. "The great Jabba hopes you will die honorably", he announced. "But should any of you wish to beg for mercy, Jabba will now listen to your pleas." 

"3PO, you can tell that worm-ridden piece of filth he'll get no such satisfaction from us!" Han yelled back. If all else fails, try bravado. It can't get you in any more trouble than you're already in, and sometimes, it can get you out of trouble. At his side, Anakin smiled. It was not the smile of a happy man; it looked more like the smile of a hungry predator that, after a long time of waiting, finally has its prey exactly where it wants it to be. Backed up against a wall with no way to escape. The tall Jedi moved his wrists, testing the bonds, and concentrated. A tiny click sounded, and the bonds opened. 

Luke, too, was ready. "Jabba, this is your last chance", he shouted. "Free us or die." 

Jabba roared with laughter at the little Jedi's impudence. Didn't he know when he'd lost? "Put him in", he commanded. 

Unseen, R2D2 rolled up a gangway to the upper deck to await Luke's signal. 

Luke looked up at R2 and touched his forehead in salute. A hatch opened in the droid's domed head. On the skiff, the guards readied themselves to throw the Jedi into the pit, when suddenly Luke leaped up, turned in the air, and caught the end of the plank with his fingertips when he came down again just as R2D2 shot the lightsaber high into the air. Using his momentum, Luke shot up again, dislodging one of the guards with the sudden movement. The guard screamed and plummeted down into the pit, today's first victim for the Sarlacc. Somersaulting over the other guard, Luke landed on his feet, and the lightsaber fell into his outstretched hand. 

Meanwhile, Anakin grappled with a third guard, lifting the Gamorrean bodily into the air and throwing him down into the pit to follow his friend. Another hors d'oeuvre for the Sarlacc. 

By now the guards on the second skiff had noticed that not everything was going according to plan. As quickly as possible, their pilot swung the craft around and toward the first skiff, while the guards started firing wildly at the other skiff. 

With lightning quick reflexes, Luke ignited his lightsaber and repelled the blaster bolts coming at them. "Get down!" he shouted. "Han, stay close to Chewie and Lando. Father, get Leia - I'll take care of the other skiff!" 

Before Anakin had a chance to answer, Luke jumped onto the advancing second skiff, using the Force to enhance his strength and bridge the distance. 

"You call that a plan?" Han screamed, outraged as Chewie pushed him down onto the relative safety of the deck. Anakin laughed. He had not felt so alive in ages! Taking on another guard, he almost threw that one overboard as well when the man yelped: "Put me down! I'm on your side!" 

"Calrissian?" Anakin set the dark skinned Human down again. "My apologies, I got carried away." 

"Hey, how do you know me, anyway?" 

"I'll explain later. Take care of Solo and Chewbacca." Anakin, too, jumped, landing hard on the side of the sail barge. His fingers clawed at the sheet metal, finding nuts and bolts to hang on to just as the shutters came down again, sealing off the observation deck. Using every little ledge and bolt he could find, the Jedi started to climb up to the deck. 

On the upper deck of the sail barge, Boba Fett checked his weapons and rocket back pack before taking off to the prisoner skiff. Han Solo would not escape that easily. Not as long as he had any say in the matter. 

Meanwhile, Luke was cutting down Jabba's minions like grass on the second skiff. The Sarlacc would be feeding well today. 

Swerving around a smaller sand dune, a speeder shot towards the battle. 

"There they are!" Jixton yelled. "Told ya we'd make it!" 

"Only because we didn't have to go all the way to the palace", Veers muttered. It irked him that Jixton was right again. The ex-sergeant had thought he heard a noise just over the next dune and insisted on checking it out. Veers felt they were running out of time, but Jixton had the better arguments. Namely a loaded blaster ready in hand. 

Jix cocked his blaster rifle and fired wildly into the fray, one of the bolts hitting Boba Fett's rocket pack just as the bounty hunter was about to land on the prisoner skiff. Below him on the deck, the Wookiee noticed him and growled, and he heard Solo's unmistakable voice cry: "Boba Fett? Where?". And then the pack went off again, sending the bounty hunter careening wildly and out of control until he hit the sloping side of the pit. Down he went, immediately unconscious from the impact. 

On the sail barge's observation deck, Leia had waited for the right moment before grabbing a bottle and smashing the shutter controls. In the sudden darkness, she jumped up and behind Jabba, coiling the chain around the Hutt's thick neck. In the general confusion, nobody stopped her as she pulled the chain with all her weight, and Jabba could not call for help. The chain dug deeply into the gangster's neck, effectively blocking his windpipe. The Hutt's eyes bulged. He could not breathe anymore. Enraged, he twisted his massive body, tried to pry the chain from his neck, but his great bulk could not move fast enough. He was running out of oxygen quickly. And the girl would not let on. She used all her weight, all her strength, to pull the chain even tighter. Finally, his tail spasmed one more time, the large yellow eyes dimmed, the fat hands slid limply from the chain and fell to his sides. Jabba was dead. 

Anakin fought his way into the observation deck, throwing guests and guards aside as he did so. It was more difficult than he had expected, since most of them tried to escape right down the same path he was taking, only in the opposite direction. Grabbing a blaster from one of the guards, he fired it a few times, sending the mixed Human and Alien flash flood back to the deck they had just fled in a panic. They trampled over each other in their haste to escape the Jedi. 

When he reached the observation deck, Anakin stopped dead in his tracks. Bodies were strewn about, some still moving. Even more huddled in the corners. In the center of the room, Jabba's corpse lay on the dais, tongue hanging out. Leia, still chained to the gangster's carcass, tried to take a cylindrical object on a table just out of her reach. His lightsaber, on display for the Hutt's guests. Anakin stretched out his palm, and the weapon flew into his hand. 

Leia looked up at him. Sweat beaded her brow and made a few wisps of hair that had escaped her braid stick to her face. 

"You again. Who are you?" 

"Time for that later, your Highness", Anakin responded and ignited his saber. "Let's get out of here first." 

With a nod, Leia held the chain out for him to cut through. He brought the glowing blade down, freeing the princess. 

"Let's go!" she commanded. Anakin held out his hand and helped her to her feet. 

On the upper deck, a remaining guard manned the main gun and fired at the prisoner skiff, rocking the craft with every hit. Calrissian fired back, but could not get a clear shot at the gunner, when another hit caused him to lose his balance. Grabbing the railing with both hands, he watched helplessly as their only blaster fell down into the pit. By now the skiff was listing badly to one side, and he, as well as Han and Chewbacca, had to hang on for dear life just to avoid sliding down into the Sarlacc's gaping mouth like so many tasty morsels. Somehow, Han managed to crawl to the skiff's controls with Chewie's help, and start the engines with still manacled hands. With a big lurch that almost dislodged the three of them, the skiff sailed away from the pit and on, or rather above, safer ground. But the danger was not over yet. 

On the second skiff, Luke had cut down nearly all of the guards when a shot from the sail barge sizzled past his ear. Dropping to his knees, he skewered the last remaining guard with his blade, and, in a fluid motion, turned to face the new danger. 

Anakin dragged Leia down the corridor to the upper deck when he heard a familiar voice whine: "My eyes! Not my eyes, please!" 

"C-3PO! We cannot leave him behind!" Leia shouted. 

"C-3PO?" Anakin whispered. He had noticed a tall, thin protocol droid just like the one he built as a child in Jabba's employ, and Solo had called the machine 3PO, but until now he had not made the connection. There must be thousands, even millions of similar droids around the galaxy. Could it really be? He shook himself out of his reverie. "Of course, you are right." 

They followed the droid's voice around a corner to find 3PO on his back, one of his eyes dangling out of his skull by a cable. Salacious Crumb was just picking at the other eye, laughing maniacally as he did so. Anakin raised his hand and dislodged the disgusting little creature, sending him flying into a corner. 

"Oh, thank you so much, Sir. I thought that little beast would be the end of me", 3PO gushed as Anakin helped him to his feet. 

"You're welcome. Tell me..." Anakin stopped himself. There was time for that later. Right now he had to bring Leia and the droid safely out of here. 

"Yes, Sir?" 3PO inquired. 

Anakin shook his head slightly. "Nothing. Follow us." With that, he turned and led the way towards the upper deck. 

On the guards' skiff, Luke was weaving a tight defense web against the blaster shots coming at him from the sail barge with his blade. However, he could do no more than defend himself. The bolts were coming to quickly, and from several locations, when the speeder came around for an attack run on the barge. Screaming at the top of his lungs, Jixton fired with two blasters, taking out three of Luke's attackers almost instantly when the main gun swung around to take shots at the new target. Veers swerved at the last possible moment, narrowly avoiding a direct hit. He just brought the speeder back on course when Anakin emerged on the deck, Leia and the droid in tow. 

Both the Jedi and the princess immediately assessed the situation. Leia dove for a fallen guard, pried the blaster from his fingers and started shooting. Anakin used his lightsaber alternately to repel blaster shots from more of Jabba's friends, and to cut down the attackers when he saw Leia duck behind a crate, a determined look on her face. She looked exactly like Padmé would have. For the merest moment, the former Sith Lord froze. 

As if pulled by an invisible force, Leia looked up to see one of the gangsters taking aim at her rescuer who stood gaping at her, unmoving. She brought her own blaster up and fired, the bolt hitting the gangster square in the chest. Her rescuer whirled around, the spell broken, and continued to fight. 

From the second skiff, Luke watched as his father and his friend fought for their lives. He had taken out the guards and maneuvered the skiff closer to the barge, shouting: "Leia! The main gun!" 

Leia looked up, nodded once, and sprinted towards the gun, firing her blaster all the way. Her second shot hit the gunner and killed him instantly. Anakin stepped in the way behind her, protecting her back. 

"Point it at the deck!" Luke yelled and ducked as new blaster bolts came flying his way. He brought the skiff around again, avoiding the shots as best he could. 

Leia threw her blaster away and instead took possession of the main gun. A few well-placed shots took care of he remaining gangsters, and then she pointed the gun down. "What now?" she muttered. 

Anakin appeared at her side, grinning, and clipped his lightsaber to his belt. 

"I think I know what Luke has in mind", he declared. Twisting his head around to check for C3PO he just saw R2D2 push the wailing protocol droid overboard before rolling off the deck after him. That left only him and Leia onboard from their group. He grabbed a rope that dangled down from the mast, gathered Leia up in his free arm, gave the gun's trigger a little push with the Force, and jumped. The two of them swung to the safety of the second skiff as the gun fired into the deck behind them, starting a chain reaction that quickly engulfed the barge in smoke and flame. 

Meanwhile, Han brought the severely damaged prisoner skiff down on the far side of the pit, and Lando could finally take his and Chewie's manacles off. 

"Well", the Correllian sighed, "guess it did work after all." 

On the second skiff, Anakin stood in front of Luke, suddenly feeling very unsure of himself. 

"Luke..." he began, and a large smile spread on his son's face. 

"Father..." Without a further word, Luke let go off the skiff's controls and drew him into a tight hug. For a moment, Anakin stiffened before he relaxed into the embrace and placed his own arms around his son for the first time in both their lives. 

"He's your father? But Luke, I thought your father was dead", Leia injected. 

"So did I, Leia, for a long time." Luke smiled up at his father. "For a very long time." Reluctantly, he let go off his father. 

Anakin smiled back when the speeder drew alongside the skiff. 

"Mission accomplished, Uncle Dee", Jix piped up. 

Anakin frowned at the Correllian. "You are early. It is not quite noon yet", he chided. 

"And you aren't where you are supposed to be", Jix bit back. 

"I'm afraid he is correct, Mylord", Veers intervened. "We would have reached the palace at noon. It was sheer luck we took the way through the canyons, Sir, or we would have missed you completely." 

Leia looked hard at Veers; the man seemed familiar to her. 

"General Maximillian Veers", she breathed. She knew him. She knew his reputation. A brilliant officer, hard, but fair, and fanatically loyal to Vader. And he had just called Luke's father... "Vader!" she spat. "You are Darth Vader!" She took a step back from Anakin, disgust marring her features. "Luke, how could you?" All her premonitions of Luke betraying her trust now came back to her full force. 

"How long, Luke? How long have you been spying for him?" 

[Previous chapter][1]
[Next chapter][2]

   [1]: chapter21.html
   [2]: chapter23.html



	24. The Sandstorm

Force of Destiny -  **Force of Destiny**

** Summary: **   
An accident reveals an old deception, and Darth Vader must make a decision that will change not only his life. 

Chapter 23 - The Sandstorm 

*** 

"How long, Luke? How long have you been spying for him?" 

The accusation hung between the Princess and the young Jedi, and for a moment, Luke's calm mask slipped, betraying his own feelings of fear and pain. Fear that he might loose his friends when they learned who his father really was. The remembered pain he himself had suffered at Vader's hands, and the pain he felt for his friends. For Leia. Anakin felt all this with his son, and he wished, not for the first time, that he could undo the past, that he could somehow turn back time. But that was even beyond his power. For the first time, Anakin realized that Luke might pay a high prize for his presence. No, he vowed silently, I will not allow him to lose his friends because of me. But then he realized it might already be too late for that; the damage was done. All he could do now was try and diffuse the situation, and explain himself to the Princess later. Anakin had known from the beginning that gaining the Rebels' trust would be difficult, if not impossible. 

"No, Leia, you got it all wrong", Luke entreated, but Anakin held up a hand to silence him: "I suggest you take care of the controls, Luke, before we ram the other skiff. There will be time to discuss this in committee later." 

Luke whirled around. Anakin was correct; while they had been talking, the skiff had continued on its course away from the burning wreckage of Jabba's barge and was now coming dangerously close to the other skiff. Han, Chewie, and Lando were already scrambling down the far side of the stranded vehicle's hull to escape the impact that was only seconds away. Cursing in a very un-jedilike fashion, Luke worked the controls to bring the skiff to a stop. The skiff glided to a halt mere centimeters from its sister ship, and Luke allowed himself to relax slightly. 

"You okay?" he called down to Han and the others. 

"Yeah, yeah", Solo shouted back, jogging around the skiff. "Next time, keep a safe distance, kid!" 

He stepped up to the skiff, hands on his hips. "Are you guys going to take us on board, or are you planning on a picnic in the desert?" 

Chuckling, his problems momentarily forgotten, Anakin lowered the gangway and helped first Solo, then Calrissian and the Wookiee board. 

He then turned to face Leia, who was glaring at him, apparently wishing she still had a blaster in her hand. "Luke is not the traitor here, your Highness", he began. "I am." 

"Oh, really?" The sarcasm was evident in Leia's voice. "The Emperor's lapdog suddenly turns to bite his master? Somehow I find this hard to believe, Lord Vader." 

Anakin winced at her harsh words, and Han stepped between them, placing his arms around the princess in a loose embrace. 

"Give him a chance, sweetheart. He's really trying, ya know", he said, catching her gaze with his own. 

"You too, Han?" Leia brought her hands up, breaking the embrace, and took a step back, placing as much distance between the two men and herself as was possible. "Are you mad? Have you forgotten who he is? What he's done?" 

"Not likely, your worshipfulness." Han gave her one of his lopsided grins. "I just happen to believe in second chances." He threw a meaningful glance at Lando, who stood leaning at the railing, arms crossed in front of his chest. He, too, was looking daggers at Anakin, who in turn tried to appear calm and unperturbed. Which was not easy considering the fact that now, of all times, the unprotected skin of his scalp and face started to itch and burn under Tattooine's relentless suns. The tall Jedi cleared his throat. 

"If you don't mind, I'd like to get out of the sun before I start blistering", he said. 

Han nodded. "Yeah, my eyes could use a break from this, too." 

"How are your eyes, Solo?" Anakin inquired. 

"Almost as good as new", Han answered, turning to look at Anakin when his gaze fell upon the horizon. He squinted. "Except... the horizon looks a bit fuzzy", he finished lamely. 

Both Anakin and Luke turned. 

"Sith", Luke exclaimed, immediately giving his father an apologetic look. 

"My feelings exactly, son", Anakin replied in a dry voice. "Looks like a big one." 

Look shook his head. "Too early in the season for the really big ones", he said. 

"Except in sun spot years", Anakin corrected. "Luke, how was the weather eight years ago?" 

Luke made a quick calculation in his head and suddenly grew pale under his tan. "Uh-oh", he whispered. 

Anakin nodded, his mouth set in a grim line, and moved over to the controls. "Let's get out of here and under cover." 

"What? What are you talking about?" Leia demanded, exasperated. 

"Sandstorm, your Highness. Extremely dangerous. If we're not under shelter before it hits us..." Anakin let the rest of the sentence trail away. 

"It can't be that bad, can it?" Leia asked. "I mean, it's just wind blowing sand and dust up in the air." 

Anakin gave a short, humorless bark of laughter. "Wind at several hundred kilometers per hour, your Highness. Powerful enough to move sand and grit with a speed sufficient to grind flesh off the bones." He gave her a lopsided grin. "I used to live here as a child, you know. Even behind city walls, you would not stay outside during a sand storm." 

"I've heard stories about travelers who got caught out in a sand storm", Han piped in. "Never believed them, though." 

"Believe them", Anakin nodded. 

"What stories?" Leia asked. 

"Well... only their bones were found afterwards, polished clean by the sand", Han told her. "Of course, I've never seen it myself. It's just a story the locals tell." 

"Not just a story, Solo", Anakin said. "I have seen those bones." He looked into the distance. "I was just a boy. The search party took me along because of my ability to find things." He took a deep breath. "It took us two days to find the remains. At first, no-one believed me when I said that those bones and scraps of cloth were what was left of the missing travelers. They thought I was making it up, to get home again. The remains did look like they had been in the desert for years." He paused for a moment. "Until my companions took a closer look, and identified one of the skeletons by an amulet the being used to wear. Only then did they believe me." 

"Oh", Leia uttered. "Well, then, what are we waiting for? Shouldn't we take shelter?" 

"We'll never make it to the nearest city. Where are you staying?" Anakin asked. 

"Ben's house", Luke offered, but shook his head in the next moment. "But we'll be hard pressed to reach it before the storm reaches us. The farm would be closer, but I don't know in what condition it is. I haven't been there since I came back." 

"The Lars farm?" Veers asked from his position in the speeder, which was still hovering alongside the skiff. "We're staying there. And Jix here made certain we have enough food and water for the lot of us." 

Anakin smiled. "Good thinking, Jixton. The farm it is, then." He started up the skiff's engines. 

"We should take the canyon road. It's shorter, and the canyon will provide some shelter if we don't make it in time", Jix suggested, but Luke shook his head. 

"No", he said. "The skiff is too large to maneuver the canyons. We would be trapped there. The open desert is our only chance." 

"If you can find your way there, Commander", Veers pointed out. "I'm told one easily gets lost in the open desert." 

Anakin laughed at that. "He's a Jedi, General. Of course he will find the way." 

Veers still did not look convinced. 

"I grew up on this farm, General", Luke added. "It was my home for eighteen years." He took the controls again from his father. "Just follow me." 

"Let's not forget the droids", Anakin reminded him. 

"Never." Luke smiled up at his father. 

They picked up R2D2 and C3PO, who were upside-down next to the burning wreck of the barge, and were on their way, trying to outrun the sandstorm that loomed at the horizon. 

*** 

They reached the farm just as the first fringes of the storm reached them, blowing up sand and dust around them, making it impossible to see more than a foot in front of them. Luke brought the skiff down and anchored it in the sand. 

"Let's get inside, quick", he yelled over the howling of the wind. Veers landed the speeder lee-side of the skiff, where it would be protected from the worst of the storm by the larger vehicle's bulk. The whole group hurried to get into the protection of the underground farm buildings. C-3PO had trouble keeping up; for the whole of the flight, the tall droid had been uttering complaints and voicing his fears to everybody who would listen, and each and every one of his comments brought a fond smile to Anakin's lips. 

Once Luke shut the door behind them, the noise died down to a bearable level. 

"Okay, Anakin, spill", Han demanded, leaning against the wall. "What is it with you and Goldenrod here?" 

Anakin smiled again. "His designation is C-3PO, isn't it?" 

"Yes, Sir", 3PO piped in. 

"And you were built here on Tattooine?" Anakin asked. 

"Oh, yes, Sir", the droid answered. "My first master built me, Sir. His name was Anakin Skywalker. He left before he could complete me, though. I have always wondered if he was related in some way to Master Luke, Sir." 

"I am indeed, 3PO", Anakin whispered. "Luke is my son." 

"Sir?" 3PO queried. "You are Master Anakin, Sir?" 

Anakin nodded, slowly. "You've always been a great pal, 3PO", he stated in a voice so soft that only Han and 3PO heard him. 

"Great pal? This golden menace to sanity?" Han guffawed. "Now I know you're completely out of your mind, your lordship!" 

*** 

To be continued 


	25. Waiting out the Storm

Force of Destiny -  **Force of Destiny**

** Summary: **   
An accident reveals an old deception, and Darth Vader must make a decision that will change not only his life. 

*** 

** Chapter 24 **

Waiting out the Storm 

_Sorry I've been so tardy lately - Real Life (TM) had me by the throat.  
A close relative of mine was diagnosed with lung cancer (before you ask: he doesn't smoke) a few weeks ago, a coworker quit, causing my vacation to be cancelled, my harddrive died... it's been quite a hectic time. So here's just a short chapter to tide you over until we get to the good stuff! :-)_

*** 

Anakin laughed at Solo's sour face, the first, full-hearted laughter any of the others ever heard from him. 

"I have it on good authority that he is perfect", he said after he caught his breath again. 

"Yes, perfect for driving me insane", Solo muttered. 

"You built C-3PO?" Leia interjected, incredulous. 

"I did. He was a gift for my mother. Of course, I was only nine years old", Anakin replied, again with that far-away look in his eyes. 

Leia studied the former Dark Lord; she had never before thought of Darth Vader having a mother, or having been a child at some time. It was hard to imagine that the man-machine she had grown to hate had once been a little boy, had once been an innocent kid playing games in the back alleys of a small town on Tattooine. 

It was Jixton who interrupted the moment by throwing a small jar at Vader, who caught it effortlessly. 

"Here. Thought you might need this, Uncle Dee", the scruffy- looking Correllian announced. 

Vader looked at the jar. It contained a sunburn ointment. Indeed just the thing he needed now. He opened it and smeared a liberal amount on his face and scalp, sighing with relief as the itching and burning stopped almost immediately. 

"Thank you, Jixton." 

"Nice shiner, by the way", Jix commented, pointing at the Jedi's black eye. On his expectant gaze, Anakin shrugged and said: "Captain Solo and I have been discussing my former political affiliation." 

This gave Jixton pause; he regarded Solo with new respect. 

"Sir, allow me to shake your hand", he finally addressed Han. "I've been trying to sneak up on him for months. He's simply too good for me." 

Han tried valiantly to keep a straight face. 

"Forget the sneaking up part", he advised. "Full frontal attack when he doesn't expect it, that's the trick." 

Jixton nodded sagely. "Ah, yes," he replied. "That's the difficulty – he always expects an attack." 

Anakin looked from one Correllian to the other, and threw his arms up in mock disgust. 

"Are you two through comparing notes?" he huffed. "I don't know why I put up with this..." 

"Perhaps because we put up with you?" Han asked, grinning a lopsided grin. 

*** 

The sandstorm continued throughout the afternoon, even growing stronger as the hours passed, and the group shared a quiet meal in the safety of the Lars farm, Anakin commenting on Veers' unexpected domestic qualities, much to the General's embarrassment. Otherwise the conversation was sparse during mealtime. Except Jixton and Piett, none of them had had a full nights' sleep lately, and they were starting to feel it. 

Stifling a yawn, Anakin rose from his seat. He had not fully adapted to local time yet, and the few hours of rest snatched between plotting courses and waiting for the right time to move during the past days had barely been enough. 

"I think I'll call it a day", he announced. "Where can I bunk down?" 

"You can have my old room, father", Luke replied, giving Veers and Jixton a questioning glance, "provided it's not taken yet?" 

"The one across the master bedroom? No, but it's empty." Jixton shrugged. "I'm afraid the Sandpeople and the Jawas didn't leave much of the furniture behind when they looted the place." 

Anakin nodded. "That's alright. I've grown accustomed to sleeping on the floor lately." 

"I'll show you where it is..." Jixton jumped to his feet, but Anakin held up his hand. 

"I know the place, Jix, thank you. " He smiled. "This farm once belonged to my stepfather, after all." 

He turned and, yawning, made his way to the room he had once shared with his stepbrother Owen on his infrequent visits to his home planet, after becoming a Jedi Padawan. The room was indeed empty, and yet, it still seemed so much smaller than it used to, even without Owen taking up most of the space. 

Anakin never knew what Owen hated more about him, the fact that he came to visit, or the fact that he would always leave again while he, Owen, was stuck on this Force-forsaken dustball to follow in his father's footsteps and become a moisture farmer. Anakin had had many arguments about it with Owen, but only one with the elder Lars. `You are not my father´ he had shouted at the man when Lars had once to often ordered him around and treated him like one of the helpers on the farm. He had not been welcome anymore after that outburst. 

Settling down on the floor, Anakin tried not to recall his mother's face when Lars told him to leave with his "wizard friends". It was the last time he had seen her alive. 

That night, the nightmares returned. 

*** 

To be continued... 


	26. Revelations

Force of Destiny 

Force of Destiny 

Chapter 25 

Revelations 

** 

Leia Organa could not sleep. That in itself was nothing new for her. Ever since Han had been frozen in carbonite, sleep had become a rare commodity for the Alderaanian princess. 

But now Han was back at her side. Literally - the smuggler was stretched out on his stomach, one arm thrown across her body, dead to the world. And still, Leia could not sleep. It wasn't Han's snoring. That had stopped when he turned over to snuggle more comfortably against her. It wasn't the hard floor, either. During her years in the Rebel Alliance, Leia had become accustomed to the strangest sleeping accommodations imaginable. A floor was comfortable by comparison. No, it was the presence of Darth Vader right next door that kept her from getting any rest. Not that Vader seemed to be faring much better; Leia could hear him toss and turn, and sometimes mumble something in his slumber. She sighed, and again closed her eyes to try and get some rest. Vader would certainly not try anything tonight. 

** 

"I do not trust this Admiral Piett", PadmÃ© repeated. Sitting rigidly upright in her chair, the former Queen of Naboo regarded the gathered Rebel leaders. Her posture did nothing to hide her indignation "He is one of Vader's own." 

"True, PadmÃ©", Mon Mothma granted. "And, according to him, that is exactly why he is here." 

"You believe this ploy?" 

Mon shook her head. "I do not know what to believe. Admiral Piett has provided proof that Lord Vader has been... mistreated by the Empire, to put it mildly. Our experts found no trace of forgery. The data seems to be genuine." She allowed herself a smile before continuing in her soft voice: "I, too, find it hard to believe that Lord Vader would join us. Yet, we cannot turn Admiral Piett down. He did not come alone. He brought the most powerful ship the Empire has, and that ship alone could reduce a third of our fleet to space debris before we could destroy it. So, our choices are rather limited. General Madine?" 

"We sent a prize crew aboard Executor. So far, the officers and crew have co-operated fully with our people. Reports indicate that Executor is short on staff, a fact that Admiral Piett did relay to us, but otherwise fully battle worthy." 

"Your recommendation, General?" 

"Accept their offer, but keep the ship on the edge of the fleet. Do not divulge any sensitive information to them. Brief the prize crew accordingly." 

"A wise course, General." Mothma nodded. 

"Security also suggests to plant explosive devices on board Executor, as a safeguard only, to disable her drive and weapons' systems should the need arise", Madine continued. 

"I must protest", Ackbar cut in. "While the other measures make sense, such an open display of mistrust would only serve to alienate Executor's crew." 

"Admiral Ackbar is correct. We cannot afford to antagonize our new allies. The potential danger involved is simply to great." Mon Mothma looked around the assembled Rebel leaders. "Are we in agreement, then?" 

"Except for one point, Madame President. I insist on a liaison officer of my own choosing." 

The use of her formal title from PadmÃ© did not bode well in Mon's opinion; it made her words an official request, if not an order. 

"Name him, please." There was a chance that PadmÃ©'s choice was sensible, even given her open hatred of the Empire and especially Darth Vader. 

"General Jar Jar Binks." 

Mon Mothma's jaw almost dropped. The tall, lanky Gungan stepped forward from his customary place behind and slightly to the side of the former queen. 

"Meesa, yousa Majesty?" 

"In more than thirty years, you have served me well. Now you will be my eyes and ears aboard the Executor." 

Madine cleared his throat. "Do you think that is wise?" he asked with a sidelong glance at the alien; Binks was a lot of things, but certainly no spy. 

Mon Mothma hushed Madine with a small gesture. 

"What General Madine is saying is that you will be without a bodyguard if you send General Binks on this mission." 

"General Binks is a hero of the Trade Federation war. He has my complete trust", PadmÃ© declared. The Gungan beamed at his queen. 

"Meesa not be disappointin' yousa majesty", he answered, eyestalks waving. 

Mon Mothma stood and addressed the assembly: "Then this meeting is closed." 

** 

Once in the relative privacy of her office, Mothma turned to Madine. 

"What do we know about General Binks?" she asked. "Aside from the fact that PadmÃ© trusts him." 

The former Imperial shook his head. "It would have been kinder to go with Security's suggestion and plant explosives." 

Mothma's expression turned grave. "That bad? He does not look like it at all." 

"He's not. Not in the usual sense, at least." 

Mothma sank into the chair behind her desk. "Kindly explain this to me, General. What is this Binks? A trained assassin? A special forces operative?" 

Madine ran a hand over his face; he felt suddenly tired. "No, madam. He is none of these things. He is merely... clumsy." 

"Clumsy?" Mothma echoed. 

"I'm afraid this is too mild a word, madam. How can I explain so you understand... this Gungan once nearly blew up a whole city simply by tripping over his own feet. That kind of clumsy." 

"O dear... I have a bad feeling about this." 

** 

Anakin sat bolt upright, gasping for breath. A nightmare. It had only been another nightmare. The Jedi threw back the tangled, clammy blankets and, with a shaking hand, wiped the cold sweat from his brow. Damn his subconscious mind for bringing up his most horrifying memories in the dead of night. Cocking his head to one side, he listened to the sounds of the other temporary inhabitants of the farm, realizing after a few seconds that he did not hear the wind howl around the buildings anymore. The sandstorm had let up during the night. 

Sighing deeply, he ran his hand over his face and then checked his chronometer. Only an hour left until sunrise. He could as well get up now. 

Shaking the blankets off, Anakin stood and put his boots on. He had not bothered to undress completely, knowing that the nights on Tattooine were as cold as the days were hot. 

What now? He knew he would be unable to get any more rest, but he did not wish to wake the others just yet. Maybe he should simply sneak into the kitchen and make some tea. It might even help his nerves, he thought wryly. 

** 

Leia decided she had had enough of lying awake when she heard Vader stir in the adjacent room. For a moment, she debated whether or not she should wake Han. He certainly needed his rest. On the other hand, if Vader was up to something - and that was certainly not a big "if" in Leia's opinion - not waking Han might result in all of them taking a very long rest very soon. 

"Han?" she whispered. "Han?" The Correllian stirred in his sleep, hugging her closer to himself. 

"Han, wake up!" Leia hissed. 

"Mmhh? Whazzup?" 

"Vader is up." 

Han rolled over on his back without even opening his eyes. "So what?" he asked in a drowsy murmur. "He's prob'ly taking a trip to the bathroom." 

Leia gaped at him. It took her several moments before she recovered her wits. "Oh, you... go back to sleep, you half-witted Nerf herder! I will take care of it myself!" 

Kicking back the covers, the former princess of Alderaan got to her feet and grabbed the blaster she had placed on the floor next to the blankets. Vader would not get away with whatever it was he was planning if she had anything to say about it! 

Still half asleep, Han did not question her, but allowed his mind to drift back into the realm of dreams. 

** 

Leia crept down the short corridor, blaster at the ready, following the Dark Lord. She half expected Vader to turn around and draw his lightsaber at any moment. However, this did not happen. Instead, Vader shuffled into the kitchen and started looking through the cupboards, yawning and mumbling something under his breath. The princess watched as he took out a mug and a box containing teabags and put the kettle on. Still he seemed unaware of her presence. It was almost surreal to watch Darth Vader perform such everyday tasks. 

Suddenly, her prey tensed. He had sensed her. She could see it in his stance, in the set of his broad shoulders. In one moment, he went from being a tired, up-too-early regular man to the deadly fighter who was always completely in control. And then, that moment was gone, too, and he relaxed again. Slowly. Consciously. Taking a second mug, he turned around to face her. He looked tired, and a little sheepish. 

"At least I'm not the only one who cannot sleep", he said softly. "I hope I did not wake you, your Highness." 

Leia let the hand holding the blaster drop to her side. "You didn't", she replied. "What are you doing up at this hour?" 

He shrugged, giving her a half-smile. "Nightmares. Occupational hazard, I guess." 

She nodded. She had had more than her fare share of those as well. 

"Would you like some tea?" he asked, holding the mug out to her. 

"I..." Leia shook her head. She had not expected this. Come to think of it, what had she expected? A squad of stormtroopers charging into the farm, killing them all in their sleep? They would have had difficulty getting here during the sandstorm. "Yes, I would like a cup of tea very much, thank you." 

"Splendid!" 

** 

A few minutes later, they were sitting at the kitchen table, steaming mugs in front of them, and a cookie jar placed strategically between them. 

Vader simply watched her, silently sipping his tea, while Leia nibbled on one of the cookies. The silence stretched between them until Leia could take it no longer. 

"What was that about, on the sail barge?" she asked. 

Vader blinked, suddenly shaken out of his reverie by her question. "What?" 

"On Jabba's barge, during the fight. You froze." 

"Oh, that. I..." How to tell her? How to tell Leia Organa that she looked and acted like the wife of Darth Vader? He couldn't. She would probably scratch his eyes out. So he settled for a half truth. 

"For a moment there, you reminded me of your mother", he began. "I knew SachÃ© before you were born, before she even married Bail Organa. She was quite a fighter in her youth." 

Leia shook her head, silently laughing to herself. On Vader's puzzled frown, she replied: "It's strange, you know. A lot of people have remarked on that, but..." She bit her lip, dropping her gaze to the table. Leia's adopted parents had always insisted that she never speak about her adoption. Never. But they were dead now, 

just like her real parents. Had been since Alderaan had exploded under the first Death Star's volleys. 

"I apologize, your Highness. I did not mean to stir up bad memories." 

Surprised, Leia lifted her eyes to Vader again. He meant what he said. He seemed to genuinely regret the pain he had caused her. She could see it in his face. 

"It's not that", she said. Why keep the secret any longer? Her adopted parents were dead, as was her home planet. She was a fugitive. Who could she hurt with the truth? 

"SachÃ© Organa wasn't my mother. I was adopted." Leia looked down again, turning her half-empty mug between her hands. "My real mother's name was PadmÃ©", she continued. "Mother - SachÃ©, I mean - once told me she had been handmaiden to Queen Amidala of the Naboo." 

The clatter of Vader's mug hitting the floor made her look up in alarm; the Dark Lord had jumped up from his seat, gaping at her in utter shock. He was white as a sheet. 

Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 0.6.7 -->


	27. Leaving Tattooine

_ It has been a long time since I updated this story, and a lot of things have been going on in my life. To all of you who have been waiting patiently and are still with me: **Thank you!**   
_

*** 

** Force of Destiny **

Chapter 26 

*** 

After Leia got up grumbling about Darth Vader, Han found himself unable to go back to sleep, as much as he tried. Not that he was concerned that Leia might do something to Anakin. Heck, if anybody could defend himself, it was that half-crazed ex-Dark Lord! Or that Anakin might intentionally hurt Leia. It was strange, but the more time he spent with the man, the more Solo found himself trusting Anakin. 

Turning over, Han Solo closed his eyes in another attempt to continue his interrupted slumber when a loud crash from the kitchen brought him to his feet in an instant. 

He was in the kitchen, blaster drawn and ready, before his brain had a chance to catch up with him. The sight that greeted him, however, was as non-threatening as it could be. Anakin was down on his knees, picking up what looked like – porcelain shards? Han blinked and forced his body to relax. So somebody had dropped a cup. Big deal. 

*** 

Anakin climbed to his feet, a little self-deprecatory smile on his lips as he addressed Han and Leia: "Sorry about that. I guess my nerves are pretty shot." 

He deposited the shards in the trash, and, turning to Leia, sketched a bow. "Excuse me, your Highness. I believe a walk will do me good." That said, he turned and pushed his way past Han. 

*** 

"So, what was that about?" Han drawled as soon as Vader was out of sight. His right hand, still holding the blaster, was dangling loosely at his side. 

"I'm not sure." Leia's gaze was fixed on the door through which the former Sith Lord had just made his exit. Her eyes were narrowed. Something was definitely not right here. In all the years of their acquaintance, first in the senate, later as enemies on different sides of a civil war, Leia had never known Vader to be so jumpy. He had reacted to the news of Padmé being her mother so suddenly, so violently, as if... but no, that was ridiculous. Leia pushed the half-formed suspicion to the back of her mind. It was impossible. Preposterous, even. Not her mother and... she could not even bring herself to think both their names in the same context. Besides, the man she knew as Darth Vader appeared to be in his early forties if she was any judge. Much too young to have been... involved... with Padmé. Oh, he had known her, that much he had said. But probably from a distance. Amidala had been elected Queen of Naboo more than thirty years ago, when Vader was still a boy. He probably was assigned to some mission or other as a Padawan when he met Padmé. He must have admired the beautiful handmaiden like many others did, perhaps even feeling more than a Jedi was supposed to. 

A small grin tugged at Leia's lips as she imagined a teenaged Darth Vader mooning over a woman years older than him. It caused Han to look at her with curiosity. 

"Are you going to tell me what your grinning about, sweetheart?" he asked. 

"Oh, it's nothing, Han", Leia told him lightly. "I just found out Lord Vader used to have a crush on my mother." 

Han tried valiantly to keep a straight face at that new wrinkle, but failed. Not Vader and the wife of Senator Bail Organa! If Leia was anything like her mother... the mental image of a starstruck Darth Vader following a political power in the shape and form of a petite woman with an impossibly big hairdo around like a puppy was simply too strange for the Correllian. He blinked a few times, snickered, snorted, and finally howled with laughter. 

*** 

Anakin wandered around the edge of the farm proper with no particular destination in mind; he simply wanted to clear his head and calm his frantic thoughts. Leia - his daughter! It was unbelievable. It had been a shock for him to find out he had a son, but a daughter as well? And how, how could he have missed it? He had never questioned Leia's parentage. How could he have been so blind? He had been so wrapped up in Palpatine's machinations, the idea that Leia could be anything else but the daughter of Bail and Saché Organa never even crossed his mind. Looking back now, there had been plenty of cues. Leia's rebellious streak. The way she put her people before herself. Certain mannerisms she shared with her mother. Force, how could he be so blind? How could he ever have done what he did to her on that first Death Star? His wanderings finally led him to a small group of older, weather-worn grave markers not far from where the first vaporators used to be. There where four now when at the time of his last visit there had been only three. Anakin dropped to his knees in front of one of them. The inscription was still readable. Cliegg Lars had done a thorough job when he carved his beloved wife's gravestone. 

"Hi, mom", Anakin whispered, drawing the fingers of his right hand through the sand. "Guess you're not proud of me now, are you? I really messed things up." He sat there for a while, thinking. "Maybe I should have never left Tattooine in the first place. Maybe I shouldn't have gone with Master Qui Gonn to become a Jedi. Things might be very different now." 

"Or maybe not", a voice behind him said. 

Anakin turned to look over his shoulder. "Luke", he greeted his son. "Are we ready to leave?" 

"Soon", Luke responded. Nodding towards the grave marker, the young Jedi continued: "I used to visit Grandmother's grave sometimes. I always thought that Grandfather Lars must have loved her very much." 

Anakin nodded. "In his own way, he did. I wasn't here too often... but Owen told me he wasn't the same afterwards. Harsher, less forgiving." He paused. "Cliegg did not survive Mom for long. I don't think it was because of the injuries he sustained when the Tusken took her. Not the physical injuries, at least." 

He got up and brushed the sand from his trousers. "He was a good man. Even if we didn't get along to well after mom's death." He turned to look at Luke. "Do we have time to pick up my shuttle in Mos Eisley? She could be useful to the Rebellion." 

The younger Jedi smiled. "The Tydirium. Veers told me about her, and I have a feeling she'll play an important part yet. Of course we don't leave her behind. Do you want to pilot her back to the fleet?" 

The two men, father and son, started the short trek back to the farm buildings. 

"I shall have to, although I would rather spend the time with you and your friends." 

"Not necessarily. Lando could take the shuttle back, or General Veers. However, I'm not coming with you." 

Anakin shot Luke a look. What was going on here? 

"I promised Master Yoda to return and complete my training." 

"Yoda! He is still alive?" Anakin was surprised, to say the least. Yoda being alive explained a lot. So it was the old master who had continued Lukes training. And the boy had certainly profited from the ancient Jedi Master's experience. 

"Yes, he is still alive. He was... disappointed when I left", Luke answered. "He feared I would... never mind." Luke stopped himself from mentioning exactly what Yoda's fear was, realizing that it might hurt Anakin to be reminded of his own failure. Anakin, however, needed no reminder. 

"He feared you would fall like I did", he stated in a flat voice. 

Luke's gaze held a wealth of compassion. "I'm sorry, Father." 

Anakin shook his head. "There is no need, Luke. It is not you who is responsible for my faults." His lips quirked up in a small smile. "I would wager that Master Yoda told you you were to old to begin the training. Am I right?" 

His son laughed. "How did you know?" 

"He said the same about me, and I was only nine." 

Luke laughed at that. "How young is young enough?" he asked. 

"You mean you don't know?" How much knowledge had already been lost? "The candidates came to the temple right from the cradle. For many centuries, no-one was accepted who had been weaned from their mother's breast for more than a year." 

By now, the two Jedi had reached the farm buildings; Han Solo caught the tail end of the conversation as he was packing some gear into the speeder. 

"But you were older, weren't you?" he interjected. 

"Indeed I was", Anakin replied. "The council rejected me when I first came to Coruscant with Master Qui Gonn. The Masters told me I was to old to begin the training. Qui Gonn insisted. I remember that Yoda was adamant about his decision." 

"But you were trained in the end. What happened?" 

Anakin smiled. "They changed their mind after I blew up the Trade Federation's droid control ship in the battle of Naboo." A look of sadness crossed his face. "Master Qui Gonn died in that battle." 

Han frowned. "Now wait just a minute... you faught in a battle at age nine?" 

Anakin shrugged. "I wasn't exactly supposed to... Qui Gonn told me to hide, and the safest place I could find was the cockpit of that fighter. But the blasted thing was on autopilot, and I found myself in the middle of a space battle before you could say podrace." 

Solo shook his head. "You must have had more luck than planet full of pro gamblers, man." 

"Not necessarily, Solo." Anakin grinned. "Don't forget I used to race pods from age six. I had ample experience as a pilot already, and once I figured out the controls of the fighter... well, the rest was child's play." 

Luke and Solo both groaned. "I bet you have been waiting all your life to deliver that line, huh?" the Correllian inquired. "Anyway, I'd like to meet that Master Yoda of yours. What say we all go? Lando could take the shuttle back, and we can slave Luke's X-Wing to the Falcon." 

"But you are needed with the fleet", Luke protested. 

Han snorted. "It's not like I'm a regular member of the Rebellion. They did well enough without me. And I'm not planning to stay with your Jedi friend, Luke. Just meet him." 

"Well..." 

"Then it's settled. Well, get going, we haven't got all day." 

*** 

Contrary to Solo's opinion, it still took the better part of the day until the group had picked up the Tydirium and Jix's courier ship in Mos Eisley and said their goodbyes. At the last moment, Jixton decided to join the group on board the Falcon, leaving only Lando and Veers to pilot the other two ships to the Rebel fleet. 

*** 

_To be continued_


	28. Yoda

** Force of Destiny **

Summary:   
An accident reveals an old deception, and Darth Vader must make a decision that will change not only his life. 

* * *

** Chapter 27 **

Yoda 

* * *

The flight to Dagobah was uneventful. After entering hyperspace, everybody assembled in the Falcon's main cabin. Han passed the time catching up with Chewie and Leia, the latter keeping an eye on Anakin who, in turn, spent time getting to know his son better. Both Luke and Anakin were a bit apprehensive of what Yoda would have to say, but avoided the subject of the old Jedi Master during the trip. To his own surprise, Anakin found that he missed both C-3PO and R2-D2. The droids had been sent ahead with Lando on the Tydirium since Luke insisted that Dagobah was no place for a droid. R2-D2 reluctantly agreed with his young Master. Although the little astrodroid was loath to leave his companions without his protection, he seemed rather glad that he did not have to go to this place again. This, and Luke's comment of course, served to pique everybody's curiosity about the Jedi Master's world. Luke, however, refused to answer any questions. 

"You'll see", he commented. "Anyway, Dagobah will not be what you'll expect. Or Yoda", the young Jedi smiled. 

"You certainly had expectations when you first went there, didn't you?" Anakin asked. 

"Yes, and I was thoroughly disabused of them." Luke's gaze took on an unfocused quality as he remembered. "Ben told me Yoda was a great warrior." 

Now it was Anakin's turn to smile. "Wars not make one great", he quoted and shook his head. "That's Yoda for you." 

"A pacifist, hmm?" Han threw in. 

"Certainly. But..." Anakin raised a finger in warning. "Don't let him fool you. He's a pacifist, but also a master tactician. In battle, he has no scruples whatsoever. He may not look it, but he could beat me in a lightsaber duel any day. Blindfolded and with one arm tied behind his back." 

Han whistled. "That's high praise. But are you sure he's still that good? Even Jedi get older, or so I've been told." 

"True", Anakin smiled. "Yoda was already old when I was a child. But I have no doubt he is still as vital as he was back then." 

Han nodded. "So he's from a long lived species. Anything else you two want to surprise us poor Force blind with?" 

"You'll see", was Luke's cryptic remark that ended the discussion for the time being. At that moment, the alarm sounded, signaling the Falcon's approach on the Dagobah system. 

"Well", Han said, standing up, "you won't keep us in the dark much longer. Can hardly wait to meet your friend." 

"I should come with you", Luke announced, getting up from his seat. 

What? Don't you trust me to land this bucket anymore, kid?" 

Luke grinned at his Correllian friend. "Remind me to tell you about my first landing here some time." 

Han looked doubtful, but lead the way into the cockpit. 

No sooner where both men seated when the ship dropped out of hyperspace. 

"Starting landing cycle", Han announced, throwing the appropriate switches. 

"Forget the automatic cycle", Luke told him. "You'll have to set her down manually." 

Muttering something under his breath that sounded like "Now he tells me", Solo took command of the controls again, steering the Falcon through the upper layers of Dagobah's atmosphere. "Just tell me where to put her down alright." 

The young Jedi gave him the coordinates, and Solo checked his readings and shook his head. "Kid, there's nothing there but mud and dirt. You want me to land in a swamp?" 

"Just try and find a dry spot. I'd hate to have to haul the Falcon out of a bog." 

"Right." Han looked straight at Luke. "So your Jedi Master lives in a mudhole." 

A small smile played on Luke's lips. "Don't let him hear you say that. He's rather proud of his home." 

Solo shrugged. "To each his own, I guess." 

Together they landed the Millenium Falcon on a comparatively dry clearing not far from the bog where Luke had crash-landed his X-Wing on his first visit to the planet. 

Warm, humid air carrying earthy smells wafted into the ship when Han lowered the ramp. Small animals could be heard scurrying in the undergrowth. A bird flew up from a nearby tree, screeching its protest against the intrusion. 

The Corellian carefully stepped down onto the soft, springy ground. Luke was close behind him. 

"Are you going to stand there all day, Solo?" Anakin called from the top of the ramp. The Jedi seemed eager to see the old master again. Or perhaps he just wanted to get it over with, much like a dreaded exam. Han made way for Luke and the others. Luke immediately took the lead, showing the way to the ancient Jedi Master's hut. The rest of the group trooped along after him, with Han and Jix bringing up the rear. 

They did not have to go far; Yoda was already waiting for them. The small Jedi leaned on his gimer stick, a stern look on his wrinkled green face. 

"Friends you have brought, more than expected." He looked up at Chewbacca. The tall Wookiee towered over everybody else. "Eat outside, we must. Not fit into my home, some of them will." Yoda nodded sagely. 

"Master Yoda, I...", Luke began, but the Jedi Master cut him short: 

"Add more water and roots to the soup, I must, or hungry you will stay." 

That said, Yoda turned and entered the hut, leaving a slightly flustered Luke and his bemused family and friends. 

"Hmmm. So that's Yoda", Han offered. "He likes to keep you off balance, doesn't he?" 

Luke grinned, feeling more than a little sheepish. "He's a great teacher, though." 

"That he is, and a powerful Jedi", Anakin chimed in. 

"What are we going to do now?" Leia asked. 

Anakin pulled up the hood of his cloak, crossed his arms in front of his chest, and settled into a comfortable stance. "We wait. Yoda will be back when he is ready to meet us." 

"You've known him for a while, yes?" Jix asked the former Sith Lord. 

Anakin nodded. "Yoda was on the Jedi council when I first came to Coruscant. He used to teach the younger initiates. Many masters sought his opinion, and his voice carried a lot of weight in the council." He looked directly at Luke, then at Han. "Yoda can see farther through the Force than anyone I have ever met, perhaps with the exception of Palpatine. Certainly farther than Obi-Wan could, or I.." He fell silent, contemplating once again the grievous mistake he had made in following the Emperor. How short-sighted had he been! 

The others also settled down one by one to wait for Yoda's return, and with his thoughts returning to his past, Anakin missed the thoughtful look that crossed Han Solo's face. 

* * *

- 

Tomas Piett could not sit still anymore. Five days had passed since Veers and Jixton had left for Tattooine, already a day more than they had allowed for the search for Darth Vader. Still there was no communication whatsoever from the two men. While intellectually Piett knew that this was not necessarily a bad sign - any number of things could be the cause of this mission taking longer than expected - he could not help to grow more worried by the hour. Having a constantly chattering Gungan for a liaison officer with the Rebel High Command did not help things either. Frankly, Jar Jar Binks was getting on the Admiral's nerves. Already he had had to rescue the alien from his own clumsiness a number of times, and he had the sneaking suspicion that Binks' job was to drive him into a nervous breakdown. There was no way imaginable that an individual as inept as Binks appeared to be could rise to the rank of General in any army! No, Piett was convinced that there was more to Jar Jar Binks than met the eye. 

Right now, the Gungan was at his elbow again, happily chattering away as usual. Piett had learned to tune Binks out during the past few days. Fortunately, Binks didn't seem to mind. Neither did he ever seem insulted when he was interrupted, which was fast becoming a rather common occurrence. 

Piett abruptly stopped his pacing, causing the tall Gungan to bump into him, and turned to face Captain Durreen. 

"Ready my shuttle, Captain, and advise Rebel High Command that I request a conference at their earliest convenience", he ordered. 

"Yes, Admiral. About time, too, if I may say so", Durreen replied and signaled a petty officer to carry out Piett's order. 

Before Piett could take Durreen to task for his cheek – it seemed that some of the Rebels' insubordinate behavior was rubbing off on the regular crew – Binks spoke up. 

"Yousa goin' over to Home One, Admiral?" 

"I am indeed, General", Piett answered tersely. 

"Meesa understand." Binks shook his head so vigorously that his long, floppy ears were flying. "Yousa bein' worried for days. But dis not wise, Admiral, not wise, no." 

Piett turned around stiffly and looked up into the alien's benign face. 

"General Binks", he hissed with barely contained anger, "my CO, his nephew, and my closest friend are missing. I hardly expect you to understand that. In fact, I do not believe you capable of understanding how I feel. But I refuse to sit on my hands and do nothing when I have the means to mount a rescue team." 

"Dis still not wise, Admiral. Many still not trustin' you. High command will never ever let you send out men for a search. General Madine be tinkin' dis a trick, and Milady will, too." Binks nodded to emphasize his point. "Yousa good man, Admiral, but they don't know yousa. Not really, no." 

Again, Binks seemed not to have noticed the insult, or it didn't bother him at all. Piett was growing ever more irritated with the Gungan. He pulled himself together, determined not to show anymore of his anger in front of the crew than he already had. 

"Be that as it may, General, but I'm still going. You will excuse me." With a curt nod towards the Gungan, Admiral Piett turned on his heel and stalked off the bridge. 

* * *

A pot with strange smelling stew and a stack of plates and spoons levitated out of the small hut, followed by the small, wrinkled form of Yoda. 

"Eat we will now. Good food. Come, come." Yoda gestured towards a fallen tree that could serve as a table. The eating utensils gracefully lowered themselves onto the log. 

Chewie sniffed the air and growled something. Taking his cue from the Wookiee, Solo nodded and said:"Listen, we really don't want to impose on you." The stew smelled strange indeed, even more so than some of the things Lando used to cook. Han Solo knew better than to distrust his partner's judgement in all things culinary. 

"Impose, you do not. Guests I rarely have", the Jedi Master cackled. Passing Anakin, who had not moved from his spot, he struck his gimer stick against the ex-Siths knee. "You, help with the plates you can", he instructed, somewhat gruffly. 

Anakin smiled. "Yes, Master Yoda." At least Yoda seemed willing to accept him, too, at his table. Maybe they could even talk. 

"Hmmmph." 

* * *

"That is absolutely out of the question." 

Mon Mothma held up her hand to silence Crix Madine; the General was outraged at Pietts announcement to send out a search and rescue team. Mothma shared his sentiment, but wished to phrase it somewhat more diplomatically. 

"I am sorry, Admiral"' she began. "While I sympathise with your situation, I must stress that we are at a critical point in our preparations and cannot allow anyone to leave the fleet right now. We, too, have cause to worry about friends still missing from our force, but any search must wait until after the attack." 

Piett shook his head. "I understand your situation, Madam. Believe me, I fully understand. But my decision stands. There are... other factors I need to take into consideration." 

He did not need to tell Mon Mothma that the loyalty and morale of his crew, as well as his own, where among those factors. Executor had defected because Lord Vader had. And now Vader had not yet joined the Alliance. While Piett did not believe that his men would mutiny, he was concerned about their performance in the upcoming battle - their first against their former comrades. Tomas Piett was not in the habit of second-guessing himself, but he was starting to doubt his course of action. 

An aide entered the conference room and urgently whispered something into Mon Mothma's ear. The elected president of the Alliance smiled. 

"It seems that the question has become academic, Admiral. I was just notified that two ships have entered our sector. One has identified itself as the shuttle Tydirium, with Baron Lando Calrissian piloting. The other is a fast courier, and the pilot is General Veers. They will join us shortly to give a report." 

Piett visibly relaxed at this news. 

* * *

- Jixton pushed his plate away and took out a thin cigar. The stew had turned out not to be as bad as it smelled, once you got used not to look at what you ate. Lighting the cigar, Jixton glanced around the assembled beings, assessing their emotional state. Vader was tense, but tried to appear relaxed. His son mirrored him. Both kept their attention on the small, green Jedi Master. This Yoda apparently was someone of great importance to both of them. Even Vader behaved like he needed Yoda's approval. Solo, on the other hand, was watching Vader and Luke. The Correllian had eaten very little, and mostly did the same thing Jixton was doing, people watching, only less subtle. Princess Organa had slipped into the role of diplomat once more, although she knew little of the relationships between the three key persons at this strange dinner. Only Chewbacca and Yoda seemed to truly enjoy the meal. Either the Wookiee was a much better actor than Jixton gave him credit for, or Yoda's cooking had turned out to be better than Chewie expected. Yoda... Yoda was an enigma. With all his experience, Jixton could not make out what made the Jedi tick. He was calm and serene one moment, mercurial the next. 

"Jixton, do you mind?" 

Vader's voice cut into the agent's thoughts. The former Sith Lord was staring at Jixton's cigar, disapproval written over his features. 

Jixton grinned. He refused to let Vader's irritation bother him. "Relax, Uncle Dee. We're outside, we just had an excellent meal, so quit harassing me about my smoking, will you?" 

Vader frowned. But before he could say anything, Yoda cut in. 

"Your uncle is he?" 

"Adopted uncle." Jixton replied. "I adopted him when he gave me a job. I always liked to work in a family business." 

Luke hid his grin behind his hand. He had grown to enjoy the bantering between Jixton and his father. 

"Hmmmph", Yoda made. "A better choice you could have made. This one, much anger is in him." 

"Master Yoda...", Anakin began, shaking his head. "I know I have made terrible mistakes. I wish to join the Alliance, Master, and help defeat Palpatine." 

"Followed the dark path, you have, for a long time. No way back, there is. Forever the dark side will dominate you." 

"I'm not so sure about that", Han injected. Leia regarded him with wide eyes. The smuggler seemed to have developed quite the protective streak towards Vader. Now he was even defending the Sith! 

"Know so much about the Force, you do? Jedi Master you are, eh?" Yoda questioned. "For eight hundred years have I trained Jedi. This one, not be trained he should have." 

Han shook his head. "I may be no Jedi, but I do know that people change. And let me tell you something: I think you're a stuck up little guy who's still not over the fact that the council overruled him. Wise Jedi, eh? Let me tell you something about wise. You rejected Anakin because he was scared. Kids get scared when they leave home for the first time." 

Yoda nodded. "That is why young the initiates must be. Too old Anakin was. Formed his mind already was, open for fear. Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hatred, and hatred leads to suffering. The path to the Dark Side it is." 

"And that was reason enough for you to reject him. Fine. You tell a nine year old kid who's left his home planet on promises to get a decent home and a future with the people he admires that he's not good enough for your elitist little band. You would have turned him out on the street. Well, Yoda, if fear is the path to the Dark Side, then you did great job of paving the way for Anakin." 

Having said his piece, Han settled back and watched the old Jedi's reaction. To his surprise, it was not Yoda who protested, but Anakin. 

"But I was accepted, Solo. My turn to the Dark Side is not Master Yoda's fault." 

"Oh, yeah, I forgot. They put you with a completely inexperienced teacher, after you won a war for them. And then they burdened you with all this chosen one nonsense you told me about. The truly ideal start for a Jedi apprentice." Han's voice was dripping with sarcasm. 

"It was still my own choice, Solo. Not Yoda's, or Obi-Wan's", Anakin replied quietly. "I chose to follow Palpatine. I blame no-one but myself for that." 

Yoda regarded both men with narrowed eyes. "Jedi your friend is not, but wisdom he possesses. Mistakes we made, too. Expect too much, we did. Listen, we did not. Help when you needed it, we did not." 

Anakin cast his eyes down. "It's not like I asked for help. Not in the right place, anyway. I felt like Obi-Wan was holding me back, when all he wanted was for me to develop the control I needed to keep my powers in check. So I turned to Palpatine. I felt he understood me better. He praised my potential, when Obi-Wan criticized me. He gave me what I craved, and I walked willingly into his trap." 

* * *

To be continued... 


	29. The Lady Ex

**Force of Destiny **

Chapter 28 

The Lady Ex 

*** 

Summary: 

An accident reveals an old deception, and Darth Vader must make a decision that will change not only his life. 

*** 

Lando Calrissian and General Veers stepped into the small conference room, accompanied by a Rebel guard. The Droids waited outside. 

"Max!" Piett exclaimed. His friend smiled. 

"They're all fine", he announced. 

"Baron Calrissian, your report, please?" Mon Mothma requested coolly. 

"Yes, Madam. The plan went off without a hitch. We learned that Lord Vader had started his own rescue attempt, but he joined us and was integrated into the team almost without difficulty." 

Lando thought it prudent not to mention Vader's other name yet, or his relation to Luke. 

"Almost?" Madine injected. 

"Yes. There was a certain amount of distrust on our side at first. However, Lord Vader proved himself to be helpful. Jabba the Hutt is dead, his criminal organization mostly destroyed, Captain Solo is free, and all without casualties on our side. General Veers here and a Sergeant Jixton joined us during the final stage of the mission. They had been Lord Vader's backup." 

"Then where is everybody now? Why have they not returned to the fleet?" 

"Commander Skywalker said he had to go to a place called Dagobah, to finish his Jedi training. Apparently a Jedi Master named Yoda lives there. Captain Solo, Princess Leia, Chewbacca, Lord Vader and Sergeant Jixton accompanied him on the Falcon." 

"Master Yoda is still alive?" Mon Mothma was astonished. "That is good news indeed!" 

"Yes, well, they are going to drop Luke off on Dagobah and then join the fleet. They shouldn't take too long." 

Mon Mothma rose from her seat. 

"Thank you, Baron Calrissian. I'm sure Admiral Piett wishes to relay the news to his crew immediately." 

Piett also rose, and nodded. "I shall take a shuttle back to Executor. General Veers will accompany me, unless you have further questions for him?" 

Mothma shook her head before Madine could demand to talk with Veers. 

"That will not be necessary." 

Piett bowed to the Alliances president. "Thank you for your time, Madam." 

"Quite an impressive ship you have there," Lando said. 

The Admiral allowed himself a rare smile. "I am rather proud of her and her crew. Madam President, Gentlemen." He nodded to each in turn and left, motioning for Veers to follow him. 

*** 

After the two Imperials had left, Mon Mothma indicated to Calrissian to take a seat. 

"And now, Baron, what is your impression of Lord Vader?" 

"Hard to say, Madam. He truly seems to be trying." Lando thought about his reply for a moment. "I don't know everything that's been going on, but Han trusts him. Luke does, too, despite everything that Vader has done to them in the past." 

The fact that Calrissian did not mention his own feelings about the matter did not escape Mon Mothma. 

"I see. And you personal opinion?" 

"I'd keep an eye on him, Madam. Han's usually a good judge of character, but Vader's a sneaky son-of-a-gun. I've had dealings with Lord Vader before, and he changed the rules on me quicker than you could say sabbacc." 

Mothma smiled. "Thank you for your openness, Baron Calrissian. We shall keep your advice in mind." 

*** 

Anakin wandered around the swamp a little distance from Yoda's hut. The others had turned in early, but once again Anakin found himself unable to go to sleep. He was deep in thought when he heard a voice he had not dreamed he would ever hear again. 

"I did not dare hope that you would ever return, my Padawan." 

Anakin spun around to see the glowing form of his mentor materialize. 

"Obi-Wan? How is that possible? I killed you!" 

"There are still things about the Force you have not learned, my friend", the apparition replied with a warm smile. "And I did tell you you'd be the death of me one day, did I not?" 

Anakin flinched; indeed Obi-Wan had told him so many times, usually after one of his more reckless maneuvers. 

"Master, I...", he began, but Obi-Wan cut him off. 

"Never mind, Anakin. I chose to let you strike me down." He sat down on the trunk of a fallen tree. "Come, sit with me. There are things we should have talked about many years ago. Many years ago." 

Curious, Anakin took a seat beside his friend's glowing form. Obi-Wan regarded him silently for a long moment before beginning: "I'm sorry I failed you, old friend. If only I had been as good a teacher as I thought I was." The old man shook his head. 

Anakin looked up sharply. Obi-Wan blamed himself for his fall? 

"Master, I've said it before: The fault is none but my own", he protested. "It was my choice, my mistake alone, to follow Palpatine." 

"Still, Anakin, your friend Solo was quite right. You did not have the best start with your training. And I, I should have listened to you. I should have explained more and criticized less. You had such high potential, I often forgot how young and inexperienced you still were." 

Anakin grinned. "You still managed to remind me of the fact often enough, Master. Especially whenever I disagreed with you." He quickly became serious again. There was one thing that vexed him, one thing he could not forgive his old master that easily. At least, not without a good explanation. "Why did you tell Luke I was dead?" 

The specter held out his hands, palms up. He looked old. Old, and guilty. 

"As I said, Anakin, I thought you lost to the Dark Side forever. To me, Darth Vader was not you. He was a completely different person, not the boy I had raised from childhood and trained in the ways of the Jedi." 

Anakin nodded slowly. What Obi-Wan said made sense, in a twisted sort of way. He had not thought of himself as Anakin Skywalker in a very long time. It was a name that belonged to a different life, a much different person. But he wanted to - needed to - reclaim that life, become that person again, albeit and older and more experienced, and hopefully wiser, version. He also realized that although, or perhaps because, he blamed himself, Obi-Wan had not dared to face the reality, the harsh truth, of failure. By separating Anakin Skywalker and Darth Vader in his mind, he had created a false image of the former. Instead of a human being, with all the faults and weaknesses that encompassed, the old Jedi had created a larger-than-life figure, an icon and a martyr. How could he ever hope to live up to the image Luke must have of his father? But no, Luke already knew both sides of him. Whatever dreams and images of his father Luke had in the past, he had put them behind him. 

"I understand, Master. And I... I am sorry I failed you." 

Obi-Wan started to speak, but Anakin held up his hand to silence him. 

"For once, listen to me. You said we needed to speak." 

Obi- Wan nodded. "Go on, then." 

Anakin looked into the distance, gathering his thoughts. 

"I often felt like you did not take me seriously. I felt like you were holding me back. I know now that you wanted me to develop control, and patience, but back then I was... angry. I thought you jealous of my power. Don't get me wrong, Obi-Wan. I loved you. To me, you were the father I never had. Still, I resented you putting me down every time I dared to disagree with you or the council." 

Obi-Wan leaned back a little, stroking his beard and smiling as Anakin continued. 

"You said you criticized too much and explained too little, But I'm not sure if I was ready to listen. Not to you, anyway. I... I wanted to hear praise. I wanted to hear that the war and bloodshed would end. I wanted someone to promise me that everything would be alright. I turned to the wrong person for that." 

Obi-Wan chuckled slightly. "Who would have thought that one day you would be so reflective, hmm? My dear Padawan, what you just described was a typical teenager acting. It was I who should have seen your problems, being supposedly the adult. And yet, I did not. I expected you to feel and act like a grown man, a Jedi, when you were scarcely more than a boy. A boy who had just lost his only family, no less. I sensed the hurt and confusion in you, but I failed to support you when you needed me. Naturally, you turned to someone who pretended to understand you. 

Anakin grimaced. "Now who is being reflective, hmm?" The tall Jedi shook his head. "It took far too much for me to realize the truth. But what's done is done, Master. I wish I could turn back time, undo what I have done..." 

"Impossible that is, even for you", Yoda's voice sounded from the path. The small Jedi hobbled closer. "Take back wrong choices, you cannot. Choose again, you can." He regarded Anakin with a long, thoughtful look. "Once you start down the dark path, forever will it dominate your destiny. Taught this, I have, to many a youngling in the Temple. Taught it, I was, when myself a youngling I was, many centuries ago." Yoda nodded and continued. "Tainted we become by our wrong choices, but sometimes, stronger we grow by them, too. Face the consequences, you must, and fight against the Darkness inside you. But beware it...", he lightly struck his stick against Anakin's shin for emphasis, "there is still much anger in you." 

"I will, Master Yoda", Anakin promised. "I am not afraid." 

"So certain of this, you are? Hmphhh.. many fears there are within you. Do not let them use you, or fall again, you will." 

Anakin regarded the old Master with calm sincerity. "I promise you, Master, I shall not fall again. I have learned my lesson." 

He stood and slowly started his way back to the campsite. Although he had much food for thought now, there was still a chance he might get a few hours of sleep tonight. 

*** 

It was Jixton who shook Anakin awake the next morning. 

"Come on, Uncle Dee, unless you want to stay here on Dagobah for a refresher course." 

Anakin groaned and sat up groggily. "What time is it?" he asked, taking the cup of coffee Jixton held out to him. 

"Late. Solo's prepping the Falcon for take-off. You better hurry up if you want to say goodbye to your kid." 

"Thank you, Jixton." Anakin sipped the coffee; it didn't taste half bad, and it certainly woke him up a good deal further. "Where is Luke?" he finally asked. 

"Already off with Master Yoda. Said he would be back to see you off, though." 

Anakin nodded and got up. "I shall go look for them, then." 

But he did not have to go far as Luke was just coming back to the camp. The older Jedi raised his eyebrows. Luke was carrying his bag. Was his son going to leave the rest of his apprenticeship? Anakin frowned. 

"Luke, what is going on?" he asked. "You're not coming with us, are you?" 

"I am, Father", Luke smiled. "Yoda said I require no more training." The young man shrugged. "Frankly, I think I still have a lot to learn, but try arguing with Master Yoda..." 

"I wouldn't", was Anakin's dry reply. Then he broke into a wide grin. His son - a Jedi! He grasped both his son's shoulders. "Luke, I'm so proud of you!" 

Luke laughed. "I'm not a Jedi yet, Father. First I have to face the trials, whatever that is. Only then I'll be a full Jedi Knight." 

"Hey, are you two going to stand there and chat all day?" Han Solo called from beyond the small clearing. "Guess you're coming back with us, huh, kid?" 

"Come with you, I shall, too", Yoda spoke up. The Jedi Master had silently slipped onto the clearing and now stood at the base of the Falcon's ramp, gazing solemnly up at Han Solo. What few belongings he meant to bring floated in mid-air behind him. "Time for me it is to return, I sense." 

"Well then... welcome aboard. Just put your stuff in one of the storage rooms, and we're good to go." 

*** 

Admiral Piett stood in Lord Vader's customary place on Executor's bridge again, gazing out of the enormous transparisteel window. The rebel fleet was nearly assembled. The attack plan was being hammered out in the rebel high command. Not that Piett was invited to those discussions; Executor was still being kept on the edge of the fleet, and no sensitive information was divulged to her crew and officers. He had expected this, and was content with the situation. Executor's size alone secured her a critical part in the operation, and that was what counted in the end. 

An aide hurried up to Piett. 

"Admiral, a ship just dropped out of hyperspace. Correllian freighter, type YT 1300. The markings match those of the Millenium Falcon." 

A grin spread over Piett's usually solemn features. 

"Finally." He turned to Captain Durreen, feeling slightly giddy. "Captain, I want running lights. The full greeting sequence. Let's welcome Lord Vader home in style." 

Durreen's grin mirrored his own as the Captain saluted and turned to carry out the order. 

"And Captain?" Piett called after him. "Roll her!" 

"Sir, yes Sir!" Durreen saluted again, and the bridge erupted into a flurry of activity. 

*** 

The Millenium Falcon dropped out of hyperspace on the edge of the Sullust system, a safe distance from the fleet. 

"Stars", Solo muttered as he checked the readings. His Wookiee copilot growled a question at him. 

"No, they're not shooting at anyone", Han replied and switched on the ship's intercom. "Anakin, you better come up here. There is something you should see." 

In the Falcon's common room, Anakin exchanged a puzzled look with Luke. His son only shrugged. 

"On my way", Anakin replied. Stepping out of the room, he missed Jixton grinning and whispering something in Luke's ear. The young Jedi also grinned and got up to follow his father. 

"Wouldn't want to miss it", he commented. 

*** 

In the Falcon's cockpit, Leia Organa leaned over Solo's shoulder. "What is it, Han?" 

Solo pointed out of the window, where an enormous triangular shape just came into view. 

"I bet my boots he's gonna be as surprised as we are." 

A sharp intake of breath told him that "he" had just arrived in the cockpit. At the same moment, red an blue lights came on on Executor's massive hull, blinking on and off in an intricate pattern. 

"That... that's my ship!" Anakin croaked. He stared out the window, transfixed by the sight of his flagship, gripping the backrest of Leia's seat hard enough to turn his knuckles white, when Executor started to move. The great ship slowly and majestically rolled on her long axis, like a giant sea creature. Anakin still gazed at her, speechless. His ship! He could hardly believe his eyes. Anakin knew better than most that no Star Destroyer had ever defected - until now! His heart swelled with pride for his crew. Handpicked from a hundred worlds, they were the best the Imperial Navy had to offer. And they were loyal to him! Anakin silently swore that he would do whatever it took to end this war and bring his men home safely. 

He could barely sense Luke and Jix enter behind him, crowding the small cockpit even more, when Jixton spoke up: "Didn't know you could do that with a ship of that size." Obviously, the Correllian was referring to the rolling maneuver. 

Solo threw a look over his shoulder. "You can't", he quipped. 

Anakin made an effort to get his feelings under control. Still, his voice sounded somewhat rough when he added: "Unless you have the best damned crew in the Galaxy." 

A blinking light on the control panel interrupted the moment. 

"Captain, we're being hailed", Leia announced, pointing at it. "You better answer that." 

"Yeah, I guess so." Tearing his eyes from the Super Star Destroyer gracefully executing an impossible maneuver, Solo switched on the Falcon's subspace radio. 

"Millenium Falcon, this is Home One, do you copy?" a somewhat tinny voice came over the speaker. 

"Millenium Falcon here. Go ahead, Home One, we read you loud and clear." 

"Welcome back, Falcon. You have permission to dock with Home One. High Command is awaiting your report." 

Solo glanced around his companions. Chewie growled and shook his massive, furry head. Anakin still gazed at Executor, a longing look in his eyes. Luke smiled knowingly and Jixton just grinned and winked. Even Leia shook her head slightly. Solo made his decision. 

"Negative, Home One. We're expected somewhere else first." 

A small scraping sound was heard over the speaker, and the tinny voice was replaced by Admiral Ackbar's much deeper organ. 

"High Command wishes to debrief you immediately, Captain. They also want to talk to Lord Vader a.s.a.p." 

"Copy that, Admiral. But they can't talk to Vader right now." 

"Why is that so, Captain Solo?" 

Han chuckled. "Cause you could knock him over with a feather, that's why." 

Ackbar's answer sounded halfway between amused and exasperated. "Then we shall see you as soon as those clowns on the Executor are finished showing off. And, Captain..." he added, "welcome back." 

"Thanks, Admiral. Millenium Falcon, over and out." 

Solo broke the connection and swung the Falcon around in a wide arc to meet Darth Vader's flagship. 

*** 

"Allowing Vader on board the Executor was most unwise, Admiral", General Madine said. 

Ackbar swiveled his command chair around to face the General. "Do you think they are being coerced?" he asked. 

Madine stiffly inclined his head. "There is that possibility", he conceded. 

"I do not believe so, General." Ackbar slowly shook his head. "Captain Solo would have found a way to inform us of any foul play. He is rather resourceful. And may I remind you, General, that we have a prize crew on board the Executor, which includes Rogue squadron? Captain Antilles reports to me on a regular basis." He paused before continuing. "I understand that a certain amount of paranoia is a requirement in your line of duty, General, but in this instance, I believe it is misplaced." 

"I see, Admiral. Nevertheless. I shall continue to monitor the situation." 

*** 

Looking quite ungainly with Luke's X-Wing still strapped to her hull, the Millenium Falcon touched down feather-light in the Executor's main landing bay. An honor guard of crew and stormtroopers had been assembled to greet the returning Master of the ship. Here and there, Rebel uniforms could be spotted among the gray, black and olive Imperial ones. 

Admiral Piett and General Veers stood at the head of the assembled troops. Behind them and a step to the left, Jar Jar Binks waited. Piett tugged on the hem of his jacket for the fifth time. 

"Relax", Veers hissed from the corner of his mouth. "You're making everybody nervous." 

The admiral only stopped his fidgeting when the freighter's ramp lowered with a hiss of overheated hydraulics and a hooded figure stepped through the rising steam. 

The man walked down the ramp slowly and pulled back the hood that obscured his features, and Admiral Piett found himself staring into the blue eyes of Darth Vader. Or rather, into one blue eye; the other was only beginning to open again after close contact with Han Solo's fist a few days ago. Piett would have had a hard time recognizing Vader. The former Sithlord looked much healthier than the last time Piett had seen him. Gone were the thick scars and deadly pallor. The bruise on his temple had faded to a yellow-greenish color. A slight sunburn had just begun to turn into a healthy tan, and Vader's nose was peeling. 

Vader stopped two steps away from Admiral Piett, when suddenly Jar Jar Binks squeaked: "Ani? Meesa not believin' dis! Meesa tinkin' yousa dead!" The Gungan rushed past Piett and enveloped a dumbstruck Darth Vader in a bone-crushing hug. 

*** 

To be continued. 


	30. Padmé Part 1

**Force of Destiny**

_For all of you who would like a heads-up when I update this story, there is now a yahoo! group "Force of Destiny". You can subscribe by sending an email to _

forceofdestiny-subscribe@yahoogroups.com 

Thank you all for your patience and your kind reviews! 

**This is the new version of the chapter - I noticed I actually had a continuity error (darn!). You guys have been just too polite to point it out to me, right? :) **

On with the story... 

** 

**Force of Destiny **

Chapter 29 

Padmé – Part one 

*** 

Summary: 

An accident reveals an old deception, and Darth Vader must make a decision that will change not only his life. 

*** 

"Ani? Meesa not believin' dis! Meesa tinkin' yousa dead!" 

The Gungan rushed past Piett and enveloped a dumbstruck Darth Vader in a bone-crushing hug. 

"Ani?" an incredulous Admiral Piett mouthed before recovering with an effort. 

A number of Stormtroopers brought their weapons up in a reflex, but did not dare shoot for fear to hit Lord Vader. The next moment, General Veers gestured to them to hold their fire. The white armored men lowered their blasters again, equal parts embarrassed about overreacting and ill at ease with an alien manhandling the Dark Lord. 

Several crewmen had difficulty keeping a straight face, and somewhere in the ranks, Sergeant Torb Garin snickered. 

Vader himself didn't fare much better, if for different reasons. "Jar Jar?" he managed after several choked attempts. "Let me go, you're breaking my ribs!" 

The Gungan did as he asked, after a final squeeze that left Anakin completely out of breath. He blinked at his Jedi friend. "Ani, where is Lord Vader? Everyone here bein' so expectin' him." 

"Jar Jar", Anakin answered, slowly and carefully. "He's me. I am Darth Vader." 

The Gungan let him go as if he had burned his hands. His eyestalks were extended so much they looked like they were going to break off. "No! Ani! Yousa makin' fun of old Jar Jar, right?" 

"No, Jar Jar, I'm afraid I'm not. It's a long story. I'll tell you everything late." 

The thoroughly shocked Alliance representative could only nod. 

Piett stepped forward and cleared his throat. The strict Imperial military protocol had been shot to hell by the Gungan's emotional display, and the Admiral felt a little like someone had pulled the floor out from under his feet. 

"Sir, I take it you know our liaison officer, General Binks?" 

It took nearly all of Vader's self control not to burst out laughing. Piett's feelings regarding the Gungan where written all over the Admiral's features for anyone who could read him as well as Vader could. 

"You could say that, Piett. Jar Jar Binks is an old friend... a very old friend." He lifted a finger in warning and raised his voice just enough for the crewmen to hear his next words. "Do not let his relaxed demeanor fool you. The Gungans are fierce warriors, if need be. And General Binks has greatly distinguished himself in the Trade Federation war." 

Piett wisely decided to change the subject: "Milord, on behalf of the crew, welcome back." 

Vader was visibly moved. 

"Piett." The former Sith shook his head. "You have done the impossible, Admiral." 

Solemnly, he saluted Admiral Piett while Solo, Luke, and their friends gathered behind him. It took Piett a moment to return the salute; he would never have expected Vader to honor him like this. Truth be told, he would not have known what to expect. 

Vader held the salute until Piett returned it. He could sense pride rising in the men standing at attention. He turned slowly to face the honor guard and let his gaze sweep over them. 

"Gentlemen, I am truly overwhelmed. When I left this ship, I never expected you to follow me. I am proud of you." 

Vader inclined his head. 

"Crew dismissed", Piett commanded. The honor guard executed an about-turn and filed out. "Captain Antilles, please stay." 

Wedge Antilles, commanding officer of the infamous rogue squadron, nodded and stood next to Piett. 

"Admiral", he acknowledged. 

Piett turned to Anakin. "Not all the crew have chosen to defect with us, Milord." 

"I was about to ask you how you did it, Piett. I have never even heard of a capital ship going over to the Alliance." 

Piett cleared his throat; this was the part he felt uncomfortable with. "Milord, I relayed the message you left for us to the crew and gave my intention to defect, with the ship. General Veers stood with me. We allowed everybody the choice between staying on board, or leaving ship. I am happy to say that the majority chose to stay on board Executor. Still, we were somewhat shorthanded. The Alliance provided us with a prize crew I hope to integrate. Captain Antilles here commands Rogue squadron and represents the fighter pilots stationed with us." 

"Captain." Vader inclined his head in greeting. Antilles did the same, winking at Luke who stood behind and slightly to the right of Vader. As small as the gesture was, Vader still caught it and threw a questioning glance at Luke. His son grinned back. 

"Let us dispense with the formalities." Luke stepped forward. "I'm Luke Skywalker, Admiral, and these are my friends: Master Yoda, Princess Leia Organa, Captain Han Solo and his first mate Chewbacca, and I believe you have met Wrenga Jixton." Luke indicated everybody in turn. 

Anakin smiled. "What my son is trying to tell me in a not so subtle way is that we are being expected on the Alliance's flag ship." 

"There is that", Luke nodded. "I believe High Command is becoming rather impatient by now." 

*** 

Padmé Naberrie Skywalker paced the length of the conference room, turned with her formal robes swishing about her, and stood, a frown marring her face. 

"You should have never allowed Darth Vader to return to his ship, Admiral", the diminutive former senator spoke with a voice like frozen steel. 

"It was vital for the morale of Executor's crew, madam. We have no wish to turn our new allies into enemies again." 

"Ackbar is right, Padmé. Let it rest." 

Padmé glared at the speaker; Mon Mothma appeared as calm and unperturbable as ever. A far cry from the emotional storm Padmé had to weather. Soon, she would be in the presence of her husband's murderer. After more than twenty years, she would finally see the monster who had slaughtered Anakin. And there was nothing she could do to avenge her husband, when nothing she wanted more was to see Vader suffer for what he had done. Damn the war. Damn the politics that made her allies with Palpatine's lapdog. Padmé wanted to scream. Instead, she took a few long, calming breaths. 

"You are right, of course. We do what we have to do." Her voice sounded bitter even to her own ears, but who could blame her for that? 

"Ships approaching from the Executor, one Corellian freighter, one Lambda class shuttle, and two TIE's." 

Mon Mothma approached the comm unit that had so suddenly sprung to life. 

"Thank you. Extend our greetings to Lord Vader's shuttle and their escort, and give them landing permit for the main docking bay. We shall be there momentarily." 

** 

The Lambda class shuttle glided into the main docking bay, followed by the Falcon and one of the TIE's. The other fighter turned around and headed back to the Executor. All three ships set down lightly just as Mon Mothma and her entourage, consisting of Admiral Ackbar, General Madine, and Padmé Naberrie, entered the bay. Both the shuttle and the Falcon lowered their ramps, and Mothma, followed closely by her group, strode towards the former Imperial ship when the TIE's top hatch popped open and out climbed a familiar tall figure clad all in black. The welcome committee stopped short; at least Padmé was seething at Vader's use of the same ruse she had employed many years ago. Luckily, the Dark Lord had not noticed her yet, her slight form being blocked from his view by the taller President of the Rebel Alliance. 

"Forgive the dramatics, Madam President", Lord Vader rumbled from his perch atop the TIE. Reaching down into the cockpit, he slipped something over his helmeted head and threw his trademark black cloak around his shoulders. 

Meanwhile, Admiral Piett walked down the shuttle's ramp and, bowing to the Alliance officials, explained: "I advised Lord Vader not to use the shuttle, Madam." 

A small smile tugged at Mothma's lips. "A wise decision, Admiral, though I believe that particular tactic has been used before." She threw a glance at Padmé. The former Queen of Naboo and Member of the Senate stood stiffly, pale features carefully schooled into a neutral expression. Still Mothma could sense her hatred and contempt for Vader roll of her in waves. With her past history, Mon Mothma would have preferred not to have the other woman around just yet, but there was no shutting out Padmé from the proceedings. 

Vader nimbly climbed down the fighter's wing and walked over while the Falcon's crew and passengers also joined the group. He didn't even have time to bow to Mon Mothma before he spotted the smaller woman standing behind her and slightly to the left – and Padmé, in turn, spotted the necklace he wore. It was not much of an adornment, really. Just a small carved Japor snippet. Vader froze. Padmé, however, advanced on him like a gundark on wounded prey. Gone was the false calm, replaced in a moment by a fury so hot it could have melted steel. 

"How dare you?" she hissed. "How dare you mock my husband by wearing that?" 

The Dark Lord of the Sith suddenly seemed to sway on his feet; Mon Mothma could have sworn, if he had not been wearing a helmet, the expression on his face would have been one of helpless and utter surprise. 

"Padmé?" Vader finally croaked, his breathing becoming more labored and irregular by the second. Now here was a ridiculous thought – the dreaded Lord of the Sith looking like he was going to faint any second now, and that state was brought on by the wrath of a slip of a woman who barely came up to his chest plate. 

Padmé reached up to Vader's chest, and for a moment there it looked like she was about to slap him, but instead, she tore the necklace from him, turned, and fled. 

Behind her, Leia Organa muttered: "Padmé? Mother? Oh, by the Force..." with her hand covering her mouth and eyes big as saucers, while Darth Vader's legs buckled under him. The man was positively hyperventilating by now, and Han Solo caught his arm just in time to help him sit on the deck instead of crashing to the floor unceremoniously. With numb fingers, Vader fumbled to remove his helmet. 

Luke pushed his way to the front. "Are you alright, father?" asked, concern coloring the young Jedi's voice. 

A sharp intake of breath then came from Mon Mothma as she stared at the pale, sweat-covered face of the former Sith. 

"Skywalker? Anakin Skywalker?" she managed to say. "But that is impossible... you were reported dead years ago. Dead by the hands of Darth Vader." 

"Not impossible at all, Madam", Luke answered for him. "Please meet my father, Anakin Skywalker, better known as Darth Vader." 

Anakin looked up at his son, although his eyes refused to fully focus. 

"Luke, that was Padmé", he managed in a not to steady voice after a few attempts. "Your mother." 

Now it was Luke's turn to be speechless, and Han Solo, still crouched at Vader's side, blinked, adding two and two and indeed getting the correct result of four. A rather silly grin spread over the smuggler's face. 

"I have a bad feeling about this..." he murmured. 

** 

To be continued... 

*** 


	31. Padmé, Part 2

Force of Destiny 

Chapter 30 

Padmé - Part 2

* * *

"Padmé? Mother? Oh, by the Force!" 

Leia Organa covered her mouth with her hand. Her mother alive? Could it be possible? She watched as the other woman turned and fled, not hearing, not registering anything that was said in the hangar after Padmé had torn the necklace from Vader's chest. She couldn't; there was a ringing in her ears that drowned out all other sound. And then she took off after Padmé, her mother, unnoticed by almost everyone else who were either trying to steady the Dark Lord or were to shell-shocked to do anything.

* * *

Padmé fled towards her cabin, not heeding the looks and calls she received from the crewmen she pushed out of her way. Damn him! Damn Vader for his cruel games. Damn herself for losing control like that, playing into his hands. A small part of Padmé knew she would have to apologize to Mon Mothma later, but right now, she needed distance. In all her years as a diplomat, she had never broken down in public like this, not even when news of her husband's death reached her. But seeing Vader with the pendant that Anakin once fashioned for her... flaunting his victory over her Anakin even now, throwing it right into her face! She had to flee, or else she would have killed the bastard on the spot. Clawed his black armor right off him, and his black heart out of his chest with her bare hands. For the first time, Padmé truly understood how Anakin felt when he found his mother dying in the Tusken village. For the first time, she understood the blinding rage that had gripped her beloved then. 

She reached her cabin, leaning her head against the bulkhead to catch her breath before opening the door, when she heard a hesitant female voice: "Padmé? Mother?"

* * *

Leia ran through the ship's corridors after the retreating form of her mother, catching a glimpse of formal robe here, pushing past an already reeling, swearing crewmember there. It seemed to her that Padmé wanted to run forever, not stopping before she had escaped the memory of whatever had set her off, until finally she found the other woman leaning against a bulkhead, thoroughly out of breath. Leia skidded to a halt a few steps behind her. She, too, was breathing hard, although she was not fettered by long skirts and stiff brocade. Swallowing hard, she tried to slow her breathing. 

"Padmé? Mother?" she asked, hesitantly, afraid the other woman would run again if she spoke too loud. For a moment, there was no reaction, none at all, but then the woman whom Vader had called Padmé slowly straightened and turned around, a look of mingled shock and wonder on her face.

* * *

"Leia? Child?" Padmé could hardly believe the evidence of her own senses. But there she stood, her daughter whom she had given up for adoption those many years ago in order to keep her safe. Pushing herself away from the bulkhead, she took an unsteady step towards the girl - no, woman, for Leia was hardly a child anymore. 

"Leia, I'm so sorry", she whispered. "I'm so sorry..." 

And then they were in each others arms, for the first time in many years. 

It seemed an eternity before Padmé disentangled herself from her daughter's arms. "Let us go into my cabin", she suggested with a crooked smile. "I've made enough of a spectacle of myself for one day."

* * *

Darth Vader settled into a chair in the conference room. He still looked pale and was feeling rather shaky. 

"Forgive me, Madam President", he breathed. "I was led to believe that Padmé was murdered. I never thought..." 

"Unfortunate this is", Yoda cut in. There was a momentary silence as nobody knew what to make of this comment. The silence was broken again by Anakin. 

"Unfortunate?" The former Sith's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Unfortunate that my wife is alive?" 

"Unfortunate that you had to learn like this, unprepared as you were", the diminutive Jedi Master clarified. 

"Please, gentlebeings. As unexpected as all of this is, there is no need for... unpleasantness." 

"Of course, Madam. Again, my apologies." Anakin brought his emotions under control with an effort, bowing slightly to Mon Mothma. Although there was nothing he would have rather done now than follow Padmé, see her, talk to her again, find out what in the name of the Force had really happened... certain things had to be done first. He wasn't a Jedi for nothing. 

Mothma smiled slightly. She could tell Vader - or Anakin - was chafing, but the man seemed determined to follow procedure and prove his sincerity. She took a seat opposite Vader. 

"Down to business, then. You must be anxious to talk to your wife, and the sooner we are finished here..." She spread her hands. 

"Thank you, Madam." Anakin gratefully returned the President's smile. 

"Now, Lord Vader - or do you prefer Master Skywalker?" Mothma looked at the Jedi questioningly. 

"Whatever you wish to call me, Madam. Although, if you do call me Master Skywalker, there is the possibility of a mix-up with my son." 

"True enough. Lord Vader it is, then. Admiral Piett already showed us the message you left for him, but I need to hear it from your own lips. What is your purpose here?" 

"I want to join the Alliance, Madam, if you'll have me", Anakin answered solemnly. "I realize you have little reason to trust me, and I can only assure you of my sincerity... and ask that you grant me a chance to prove myself." 

It was then that General Madine cut in: "The situation has certainly changed, now that we are aware of your identity, Lord Vader. How can we trust a man who already switched sides once?" 

"That will be enough, General", Mothma interrupted him. "The council will not go back on their decision. And the way I see it, Lord Vader has not changed his allegiance before. Please remember that the Emperor once was the duly elected President of the Republic. It is us who have started a rebellion. Lord Vader is merely a little late in joining us." 

She rose and offered the Sith-turned-Jedi her hand. "You shall have your chance. The council has already discussed your case, and although the vote was not unanimous, the majority of our representatives advocates your admission. Welcome to the Alliance, Lord Vader." 

"Thank you." Anakin shook the proffered hand, inordinately relieved. 

"Now, I believe you have a family matter to attend to. We can talk about the particulars of your station with the Alliance when you had a chance to talk to Padmé."

* * *

"Where's Leia?" Han Solo asked, only now noticing the princess' absence. 

"Gone after her mother, she has", Yoda mumbled without stopping to chew on his gimer stick. The group had waited in the hangar while Vader had accompanied Mothma, Madine and Ackbar to the conference room. 

"Uh-oh", was Han's comment. "She's going to be pissed." 

"What's that, Han?" Luke asked. 

"Kid, don't you get it? Leia is Padm's daughter. Vader is your dad, Anakin Skywalker. Anakin Skywalker is also Padm's husband. You and Leia are the same age, right?"Jixton threw in. 

"Yeah, right... wait a moment..." Comprehension dawned on Luke's face. "Leia is my twin sister!" 

"And she's also Darth Vader's daughter. Like I said, she'll be pissed." Han had the grace to not look smug... not too smug, at least. 

"Uh-oh", Luke echoed. "Think we should help him?" 

Han cocked his head at Luke. 

"Would you risk it?" 

"A Jedi should choose his fights wisely." 

"Exactly my thought."

* * *

In her cabin, Padmé Naberrie Skywalker looked her daughter up and down. 

"Leia, I cannot tell you how..." she began, but Leia interrupted her. 

"Hush, Mother, there is no need for you to apologize. I understand. You wanted to keep me safe." 

"I did. Still... I wanted to be there for you, to see you grow up." 

The two women fell silent for a while. 

"There is one thing, Mother", Leia began, a bit hesitant. 

"Yes?" Padmé was almost too eager. 

"My adopted parents... I believed you were dead. I grew up feeling they were closer to me then you." She let out a short laugh. "Does that make any sense?" 

Padmé had to blink away tears. "It makes perfect sense, dear. It's the price I pay for giving you away." 

"We seem to have a lot in common", she continued. "You went into politics, like me." 

"Yes. And here I was thinking I was following in my father's footsteps." 

"Oh no, no." Melancholy welled up inside Padmé. "Your father, Leia, had very little patience for politics. He was a Jedi." 

"A Jedi?" Now that was news to Leia. Her father, her biological father, had been a Jedi? 

Padmé strode over to a small table where a holocube sat. She picked up the cube and handed it to her daughter. The picture showed herself and a tall, handsome young man with sandy hair cut short except for a peculiar braid peeking out from behind his ear. Both were smiling. Leia stared at the pair in the holo. Her mother she easily recognized; the face was the same she saw in the mirror each morning. But the man... although Leia was certain she never met her father, this man looked strangely familiar. She had the eery feeling that she should recognize him, yet she could not. 

"You see, ours was a forbidden love", Padmé said. "As Jedi, he was not supposed to have a relationship, let alone marry and have children. But Anakin..." 

"Anakin?" Leia looked up sharply. Her father could not possibly have he same name as Darth Vader, could he? 

"Yes, that was his name. Anakin Skywalker. I first met him on Tattooine when he was still a little boy. Years later, we met again, and I fell in love. I wish you could have met him. He was the sweetest, most caring person. Funny, too." Padmé smiled sadly. So many years had passed since then, but she could still feel Anakin's sweet, passionate embrace when she closed her eyes. 

Leia stared openmouthed at her mother. Anakin Skywalker? Darth Vader? "That bastard!" she exploded. 

"What?" Padmé frowned. "Who are you talking about?" 

"Vader!" Leia spat out the name as if it were a curse. 

"Yes." The familiar sadness settled on Padm's mind. "He betrayed and murdered your father." 

"No." Leia did not want to believe it. But there could not be two Anakin Skywalkers, could there? Vader must have assumed Anakin's identity to draw Luke in. But... she looked down at the holocube again. No, there was no denying it. That was why the man in the picture looked so familiar - she had seen his face before, older, more scarred. The man in the picture was Darth Vader, albeit a younger, happier version. Leia let out a breath of air she did not remember holding when the doorbell chimed.

* * *

Anakin nodded his thanks to the crewmember who had shown him to Padmés quarters. Black helmet tucked under one arm, he placed his other hand on the doorchime panel to announce his presence. The door opened after a few seconds filled with nervous anticipation. 

"What do..." Padmé broke off as soon as he saw his face. "Anakin?" 

"Padmé... I... can I come in?" Anakin gestured towards the cabin. Numbly, the former Queen of Naboo nodded. 

Anakin stepped into the room - his wife's quarters were generous, although nothing like his on the Executor. 

"You!" Leia shouted. "You have some nerve, Lord Vader!" In two swift strides, Leia Organa was standing in front of the dreaded former Dark Lord of the Sith and slapped him across the face. Hard. Stunned, Anakin raised his hand to feel his cheek. 

"I guess I deserved that." 

"You knew! You knew and did not care to tell me!" Leia's voice rose steadily in volume. 

"Leia, wait, I didn't..." 

"I don't want to hear it." Leia was angrier than she remembered ever being in her life. 

"Leia, please... I do want to hear." Padm's voice was quiet. She looked up at Anakin. "I'm waiting, Anakin." 

"He told me you were murdered." Anakin's answer was so quiet Padmé had trouble understanding him. "He gave me your necklace as proof. Hinted it was Obi-Wan who killed you. I should have known better, but I... I was angry. I believed him." 

No-one had to ask who "he" was. 

"Sabé. She took the necklace on her last mission, without my knowledge." 

Anakin placed a comforting hand on his wife's shoulder, but she shook it off. "Don't." 

"I was still recovering from injuries I sustained in a fight with Obi-Wan. The medics told me I would never be able to live a normal life again." He swallowed. "With you dead, when Palpatine offered me the apprenticeship, I had nowhere else to go anymore. I became Darth Vader." 

"Palpatine manipulated us all. Even Obi-Wan played into his hands." Padmé shook her head. "It was he who told me that Darth Vader murdered my husband." 

Anakin felt the familiar anger rise within him. "Obi-Wan", he hissed between clenched teeth. "You'll have a lot to answer to." 

"He is dead, in case you've forgotten. You killed him on the first Death Star", Leia threw in. 

Anakin gave out a short, humorless laugh. "Not as dead as he'll wish he was when I'm through with him." 

"There is just one thing I want to know, Lord Vader. When did you intend to share your little tidbit of information with me?" 

Anakin ducked his head. "Not before you stopped hating me, Leia", he said quietly. "I only realized it on Tattooine, that morning when we talked. I always assumed that you were Bail's daughter. Please, Leia, forgive me - I never intended to hurt you." 

"It is a little late for that, don't you think?" Leia was still angry with him, and rightfully so. "You tortured me. You stood by and did nothing when Tarkin gave the order to destroy Alderaan." 

"Leia..." 

"Please, Leia, leave us alone for a moment", Padmé asked. Her daughter threw her a look that clearly said she did not think that wise, but did as she was asked. 

As soon as the door had closed behind the princess, Anakin stepped closer to Padmé. "I missed you so much", he whispered. 

"I'm sorry, Anakin." She put her hand on her husband's forearm. Anakin looked up, hope in his blue eyes. 

"You better leave now." 

The hope died as quickly as it was born. 

"Padmé, please..." 

"Go, Anakin. For too long, I thought my husband was dead. And now I learn the man I hated for murdering him is, in fact, him. Do you unterstand? I need time. There is too much standing between us for now." Padmé turned away from him. 

"I see. I'm sorry, Padmé. Perhaps... after a while..." 

"Perhaps." 

Anakin turned and made to leave his wife's quarters. "Padmé?" He paused in the doorway. "I love you."

* * *

The large, many-tiered war room of the Home One was starting to fill with rebel crew and officers for the final briefing. Chatter in every language known in the Alliance filled the room as Han Solo and Luke Skywalker took their places. Leia joined them, her face still wearing an expression that warned everyone who knew the slight woman better not to cross her right now. 

"So he told you?" Han asked. He better hadn't. 

Leia huffed. "Tell me, did everyone but me know?" she hissed. 

"Easy, your Highnessness! I only just figured it out, alright? It's not like Anakin knew himself, or didn't you guess that?" 

"I don't know what you're talking about." 

"Your little chat over tea is what I'm talking about, oh mighty Princess and Senator." Han shrugged and nonchalantly leaned back in his seat. "I wondered since when Vader had become so clumsy a to break cups, but that explains it, don't you think, sweetheart?" 

Somewhat mollified, Leia smiled tightly. "Yes, that would explain a lot. Still, he has it coming..." 

"Never doubted that." Han grinned, satisfied with himself and the world. 

It was a very quiet Anakin that finally joined them; the general buzz of conversation in the room stopped for a moment when he entered, only to resume at a higher volume. 

"Looks like it didn't go too bad", Han muttered towards him. 

"What are you on about, Solo?" 

"Well, knowing Leia, her mother must be quite a handful. And you're still alive, your Lordship." 

Anakin snorted. "Well, if you view it like that, yes, it could have gone worse." 

A hush fell over the war room as Mon Mothma stepped up to the map table and holo emitter at the center; here was a person with a presence so commanding she did not need to ask for attention. 

"The Emperor has made a critical mistake, and the time for our attack has come", she said.

* * *

To be continued... 


	32. Intermission

**Force of Destiny **

Chapter 31 

Intermission

* * *

Summary: 

An accident reveals an old deception, and Darth Vader must make a decision that will change not only his life. 

Moff Jerjerrod straightened his uniform jacket before he exited the lift. The makeshift throne room was dimly lit; most of the illumination came from the soft glow of the sanctuary moon, its half sphere being visible through the viewport. 

The Emperor gazed out that same viewport, his back turned on the elevator, but there was no doubt in Jerjerrod's mind that he was fully aware not only of his presence, but of his every movement. The officer dropped to one knee at the base of the stairs and bowed his neck, awaiting his rulers convenience. The Emperor allowed him to wait. Patience was a virtue much underestimated in the Imperial ranks, and so Palpatine liked to teach its merits when the opportunity arose. 

"What have you to report?" he finally asked. He did not allow Jerjerrod to rise from his position; the Moff took the hint and remained kneeling. 

"My liege, all weapons systems and the maneuvering thrusters report fully functional. This space station is now able to defend itself." He hoped it would be enough; there was no way his men could have completed all systems, especially the drive. Crucial hyperdrive parts still had to be delivered to the building site. 

Palpatine cackled and turned his high-backed chair around to face the commander of his latest weapon. "Very good", he crooned. "Soon we shall crush the Rebellion once and for all." 

Jerjerrod dared to lift his head and look directly at the galactic ruler. "Your Highness, what about the reports of the Executor defecting to the Alliance?" 

Palpatine scoffed at that. "It is of no consequence. This battle station is now the ultimate weapon in the Galaxy. Dismissed." 

Jerjerrod knew better than to press his point. But he would not make the mistake of underestimating Darth Vader and his flagship.

* * *

"Jixton, I have a job for you." 

The Correllian stopped on his way to the shuttle and slowly turned around, a saucy smile playing on his lips. 

"Didn't you fire me, Uncle Dee?" 

"I don't know what you're talking about", was the flat reply. 

"Yeah, damn static on the radio, can't make out what you're saying half the time." The smile grew into a grin. "Gonna cost you extra anyway, Uncle." 

"Naturally." Anakin rolled his eyes. He did not particularly enjoy Wrenga Jixton's warped sense of humor. Especially when the ex-Sergeant made him eat his own words. 

"So, what's the job?" 

"I want you to volunteer for the Endor mission." 

"Whoa, boss, hold your Banthas. There was never anything about suicide in my job description." Jixton held up both hands. Anakin glowered at him. 

"There will be if you do not volunteer. Is that understood?" he growled. 

Jix pinched the bridge of his nose. "Alright, no need to go all Vader on me. What exactly is it you want me to do?" 

"Keep an eye on my children. Make sure they get back in one piece." 

"Or else I don't need to come back at all, is that what you're saying?" Jixton cocked his head at the other man. "Look, in case you didn't notice, your kids are all grown up. They don't need a nanny. Not that I'm looking the part, mind you." 

"I care neither about your looks, nor your opinion on the matter, Jixton. You have experience in the kind of territory the strike team will encounter on Endor. You are an expert in explosives. You can think on your feet. With you, the mission stands a much higher chance of success, and survival for the team members." 

Jixton adjusted his ponytail. "Oh, well, if you put it that way... 5,000 okay with you, Uncle?" 

"You can collect your fee after your return from Endor. And, Jixton?" 

"Yes?" 

"Double if my children come back alive and well." 

"You have such a nice way of convincing a man of what's best for him, Uncle."

* * *

"Mother", Luke said simply. The one word carried a wealth of emotion. The diminutive woman looked up at him; there was no denying her close relation to Leia. Luke's twin sister was a younger version of the woman now standing in front of him, just like he looked like a younger and shorter version of Anakin, their father. 

"Luke. I've heard so much about you already. I cannot tell you how proud I am of you, of both my children." Padmé opened her arms and, for the first time, embraced her grown son. "I'm so sorry I had to give you up", she whispered into his chest. 

"I understand, Mother. There was nothing you could have done. And Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru really weren't that bad, you know", he finished with a slight smile. 

There was a bit of an awkward pause as neither knew what to say to the other. Both had a million questions, but somehow they did not seem important anymore. 

"You've become quite a Jedi, I hear", Padmé finally said. 

Luke smiled. "Yes. I always wanted to follow in Father's footsteps..." He realized what he had said only after the words had left his mouth. "Well, not like that, I mean..." 

Padmé laughed. "I know what you mean. And you do have a way with words, just like your father." 

Luke grinned, slightly embarrassed. "He loves you very much." 

"I know. And I suppose I still love Anakin, but... Darth Vader will need some getting used to. Obi-Wan told me he betrayed and murdered Anakin, and to find out they are one and the same... that threw me a bit off." 

Luke grimaced. "Ben has something to answer for", he replied grimly. "He at least deserves a good talking to for his version of the truth." 

Padmé frowned. "Are you telling me Obi-Wan is alive as well?" 

"Not really." Luke shook his head. "But he's not as dead as he'll wish he were when I'm through talking with him. I sometimes wonder how things would have turned out without his machinations. No doubt he meant well, but he sometimes has this high-handed, I-know-better-than-you-because-I-am-a-Jedi manner..." 

Padmé nodded. "Vader... Anakin said something similar. I won't pretend to understand about this thing about Jedi and the Force, but I know exactly what you mean. Obi-Wan can be quite aloof at times, and I suppose it's gotten worse over the years." 

"But let's not talk about Ben, Mother. I know so little about you, and I have so much I want to ask you."

* * *

"Hey, Anakin!" 

The tall Jedi was talking with Jixton in Home One's main hangar when he heard Solo call. He turned around and approached the Correllian. "Yes?" 

"I noticed you didn't volunteer for the Endor mission. Luke's gonna be disappointed, you know." 

Anakin smiled thinly. "That cannot be helped. My place is with my ship, and my squad." 

Han cocked his head. "And away from Leia, huh? Don't think I didn't see you flinch every time she looked daggers at you." 

"There is that. The way things are between us at the moment, I feel my presence would distract her from the mission." He paused for a moment. "To tell the truth, Han, there is yet another reason why I should be staying away from Endor as long as possible." 

"Oh?" 

"Palpatine. He would certainly sense my presence through the Force; I have never been able to block him." Anakin ran a hand over the stubble on his skull. "I would give us away by just being there." 

A thoughtful look crossed Han's face. "What about Luke then? He's a Jedi, too." 

Anakin shook his head. "Luke should be alright. He hasn't been Palpatine's apprentice for a good twenty standard years. But tell him to keep his mental shields up, just in case. Where is Luke, by the way?" 

"With his mother. They have a lot of catching up to do." 

A pained look crossed Anakin's features. 

"Hey, look...", Han began, but the former Sith interrupted him: "It's alright, Han. I'll just have to live with the consequences of my actions. I only wish my decisions had not forced Padmé to give up our children to be raised elsewhere. I cost Luke and Leia both their parents, Han." 

There was nothing Han could reply to that. 

Anakin decided to change the subject. "So, you're going to take the Tydirium?" he asked. 

"Yeah. Wanted to ask you... anything special I should know about her?" 

A thin smile appeared on Anakin's face. "No, I haven't had the time for any modifications. But what about the Falcon?" 

Han shook his head. "Too recognizable. We're supposed to sneak in. Can't do that in a ship that's at the top of the most wanted list." 

"Yes, I believe that would be quite difficult. So the Falcon is not going to participate in the battle?" 

"What? You asking for my ship? Forget it, man, you already have the Executor, and she's a mighty fine lady. No, I gave the Falcon to Lando. He's gonna lead the attack on the Death Star, and he's gonna need all the help he can get." 

"And he is going to receive it. I do not intend to hold my ship, or my squads, back." 

Han frowned a bit at Anakin's words. "What about loyalties? Your men just joined the Rebellion, and you're asking them already to fight their former comrades." 

"They knew it would eventually come to that when they defected. I shall not imply a lack of trust in my men by keeping them out of the fight." The answer was delivered with a haughty air. 

"Alright, alright", Han conceded. "I guess you know your crew better than I do." 

Anakin grinned. "'Course I do, Han. Now, I better get back to my ship. Piett and I need to familiarize ourselves with the battle plan, and inform the officers and crew. And I believe I heard a rumour about our new TIE's." 

"What rumour?" 

"We have a new model, the Avenger. You actually have to thank the imbeciles at the shipyard for our presence here – had they done their job right, I would not have had an accident on the first test flight, and we would not have found out about just how Palpatine made sure I stayed in his service. Well, anyway, Piett tells me that our mechanics have been working around the clock to bring these beauties up to speed." He grinned evilly. "Should be a nasty surprise for the Imperial Fleet to meet them in battle." 

"I guess so... well, it's time I gathered my team, too. Take care, Anakin. And may the Force be with your." 

The two men shook hands. 

"Good luck, Solo." 

Solo gave him a half-smile and replied, quoting what another Jedi had told him what felt like a lifetime ago: "In my experience, there is no such thing as luck." 

Only a short while later, two shuttles floated out of Home One's main hangar. One banked off towards the looming triangular shape of the Super Star Destroyer, while the other set course for a target much farther away. In the crowded cockpit of that shuttle, a deep growl could be heard. 

"No, I don't think they had Wookiies in mind when they designed her, Chewie." 

Leia walked in and strapped into the seat behind Han's while Chewbacca threw a set of switches. "We're all set, Captain." 

Solo threw a look back at the docking bay, where his battered old freighter still sat. To give her up even to a close friend like Lando... it didn't feel right. It felt like he was unfaithful to her. It felt like he wasn't going to see her again. 

"Hey, you awake?" Leia nudged his shoulder. 

Han shook himself to clear his head of the morbid thoughts. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Let's hit it." 

He touched the controls, and the stars turned to streaks, which turned to the amorphous not-quite-shapes of hyperspace.

* * *

To be continued...


	33. Endor Part 1

Force of Destiny 

Chapter 32: Endor! - Part 1

Summary: An accident reveals an old deception, and Darth Vader must make a decision that will change not only his life.

* * *

Tydirium had successfully made the jump to hyperspace when a somewhat scruffy-looking Corellian poked his head into the cockpit. Jixton thought he would enjoy a bit of the forward view instead of staying in the crowded passenger cabin. Not that the cockpit was any less crowded, but he felt he should get a little closer to the princess and her Jedi brother now so it would look less suspicious than doing it once they reached Endor. Uncle Dee had made it quite clear that he wanted his kids back safe and sound. Jixton figured it would make the task much easier if he was able to stay close to Vader's offspring without them getting jumpy or – Force forbid! – realizing their daddy had arranged for a bodyguard. Leia in particular was a feisty one, and he did not want to get on her bad side.

„Are we there yet?" he quipped.

Leia shot him an exasperated look.

„I hardly thought you would risk joining us, Mr. Jixton", she said in a flat tone.

„What? The cockpit such a dangerous place?" Jix joked, deliberately misunderstanding her.

„Don't play dumb with me!" Leia snapped.

„Alright, alright. Uncle Dee volunteered me. Seemed to think the mission would stand a greater chance of success with my expertise. There, satisfied now, your Highness?"

Jixton's scowl matched Leia's, only his was pure mockery.

„If Lord Vader thinks we need a babysitter..." Leia started. She was very nearly hissing with annoyance. By the Force, what was Vader thinking? She had done fine without an overbearing, tin-plated Ex-Sith playing on being daddy so far, thank you very much!

„Would you settle for a bodyguard, then?" Jix's eyes twinkled in amusement. Before Leia could respond, however, he continued: „Listen, I'm not going to cramp your style, no matter what Vader wants. I've got a fair idea about how competent you are. If you weren't, you wouldn't be here now. Just cut your old man a bit of slack, alright? He's new to this whole parenting thing, and he's bound to make mistakes." The Corellian's eyes grew a bit softer. „Trust me on this: Vader's not half as tough as he'd like everyone to believe. He just found you, and he's scared spitless of losing you again."

„Still...", Leia began, but Luke interrupted her: „Quit bickering already, you two. We're stuck with Jix, we're going to have to make the best of it."

„Luke, if you think..."

„Leia, Jixton already said he trusts your competence." Luke kept his voice calm. „It's not his fault father made him join us."

Leia huffed and crossed her arms in front of her chest. „He could have declined."

„Oh, come on", Han chimed in. „Your dad can be very persuasive, you know."

Leia shot him a glance that clearly said you, too, but kept her tongue.

„Anyway, we'll be reaching Endor soon, and I don't want any differences in the group. Leia, just try to forget Jix's secondary mission, alright? And Jix, I expect you to treat Luke and Leia the same as anybody else. Don't hover, because that's my job. Got that?"

„Understood, General."

* * *

Tomas Piett sat stiffly in his seat aboard the shuttle; one might think he was standing at attention, only sitting down. Opposite him, Darth Vader leaned back in a slightly more relaxed manner, studying what little information Rebel High Command had deemed necessary to relay to the Rebellion's newest members. Anakin understood they were on a need-to-know basis. Still, his idea of what he and his officers needed to know and Madine's seemed to differ greatly. The former Imperial's distrust could not be helped at the moment. At least he was in no position to exclude the Executor and her crew completely from the proceedings.

Anakin handed the datapad over to Piett. "Have that uploaded to our main computer and inform the officers, Admiral."

"Yes, Sir."

"Something on your mind, Piett?"

Piett shook his head. "Not really, my Lord."

Anakin raised one eyebrow. It was very unlike Piett to hedge; whatever it was that disturbed the other man, it was either of a private nature, or he did not know how to phrase it yet.

"Out with it, man", Anakin grumbled. The Admiral pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I'm worried about the upcoming battle, my Lord."

"Do you think our men will regret their decision?"

Piett nodded, then shook his head no. "That too, Sir, but it is not really the cause of my concern. No, it is our new crew members."

"The Rebel prize crew?" Anakin clarified.

"Yes, Sir. The time has been barely adequate to integrate them into our crew. I'm worried about their apparent lack of discipline."

„Ah." Anakin leaned back in his chair. "I do not think you need to concern yourself with that, Admiral. The Rebels may appear to be rather lenient in that department, but their performance in battle has never been compromised by that." He cocked his head and smiled. "Otherwise, this war would have been over years ago."

Piett shook his head slightly. "I don't mean to be negative, Sir, but their performance within the Rebel military is no indication of how well they integrate into our crew."

"Hmmm. So you think there'll be friction?" Anakin nodded slowly. "You are right, of course. Merging crews is always difficult. But there is nothing we can do about that." He massaged his neck and suppressed a yawn. "It's been a long couple days, Piett. I should get in some quality rest time before the battle. Unless there is anything that needs my attention now?" He looked questioningly at the Admiral; Piett shook his head.

"Everything is as ready as it can be, under the circumstances, my Lord."

"Good. In this case, I'm going to get some much needed beauty sleep as soon as we've landed."

* * *

The Tydirium dropped out of hyperspace not too close to the green moon of Endor, and the steel moon orbiting it with its own ring of destroyers and lesser ships on guard.

Chewbacca growled and shook his massive, furry head.

"Yeah, I don't like it either. That's a lot of ships here", Han growled back.

"Think they are waiting for us?" Jixton asked.

"I sure hope not."

"Now we'll find out if the code was worth the price we paid for it", Leia muttered.

The massive triangular shape of a Star Destroyer slowly pushed itself into the Tydirium's trajectory. A tinny voice came over the radio, demanding their designation and the code. Han complied, glad that his hands were not shaking, although his throat was drier than the Tattooine desert. Damn, he was an experienced smuggler. He had fooled the Imperial fleet more often than he cared to count. Why was he showing nerves now?

Because it was never the whole damn fleet, a tiny voice in the back of his mind answered his unspoken question. And it used to be only Chewie and you, no-one else's lives depended on you before. Now, you have Leia to think about… and the Rebel Fleet.

Han resolutely stamped down on his doubts; he would come through, for Leia, for Luke, and for the Rebellion, but most important, for himself. His luck would not run out, simply because it would be the single most rotten time for it to do so. The Corellian smuggler smiled grimly to himself as Tydirium drifted ever closer to the Star Destroyer. What took the Imperials so long?

"Shuttle Tydirium, what is your cargo and destination?"

Han licked dry lips before he answered: "Parts and technical personnel for the sanctuary moon."

"Tydirium, you are clear to proceed. Prepare to receive guidance signal; do not deviate from the guided course."

"Copy that. Tydirium out." Han cut the transmission and leaned back in his seat. "See, I told you, no sweat!"

The Tydirium swung around and followed the guidance signal through the narrow corridor cut into the Death Star's defence shield for her. Han waited until they had well cleared the shield and were already in the moon's upper atmosphere before he took the controls again. This was the most critical part; getting down on Endor without arousing suspicion and getting shot down. Landing in the designated area was, of course, out of the question. The whole strike team would be arrested as soon as an Imperial set eyes on them. There was no other way but to fake a crash close enough to the shield generator to reach it within a day's march through the woods. And that was where Han's talents as a smuggler were needed. He had to take the shuttle into a barely controlled spin down into the denser layers of the atmosphere, making her look as if she were breaking apart, and still land her safely and on the spot. Not something just any pilot could accomplish.

"Strap in, everybody. This is it", he announced and cut the engines; Tydirium, not built for unpowered flight in the upper atmosphere, bucked under him, stalled, and tumbled over her left wing.

"Tydirium, you are off course. Correct your altitude", an as yet unhurried voice came over the radio.

Chewbacca hit the button that activated the emergency beacon.

"Repeat, Tydirium, you are losing altitude fast. Restart your engines!" The calls were rapidly becoming frantic.

Chewbacca released the dummy – a clever contraption that would explode seconds after release, giving ground control the impression that the shuttle itself had exploded, and deactivated the beacon. To any observer it appeared as if the shuttle had exploded, and a large chunk was hurtling down towards the moons surface. That large chunk was, of course, Tydirium herself, descending in a truly suicidal manoeuvre.

At the very last moment, Han Solo restarted the shuttle's engines and turned the almost-fall into a gentle curve below the Imperial sensor range. The smuggler thanked whatever Force or deity was responsible that the Imperials did not use a sensor array for the lower atmospheric strata; their sensors were state-of-the-art equipment, designed to find anything that came in from space, but the sensor network started about five klicks from the surface, or so the Bothan spies had assured them. Had the Empire still used old-fashioned radar, the Rebels would have had no chance to pull this mission of.

Flying lower, Han looked for a place to land far enough from the shield generators and the Imperial garrison to hide the shuttle, and still close enough to reach their goal within the given timeframe. Skimming over the tree tops, he finally found a clearing less than fifteen klicks from the garrison. He set the shuttle down as close to the trees as he could get; the woods would provide additional cover in case somebody else flew over the clearing.

"Alright, let's get this show on the road. Captain, I want this shuttle invisible from the air in 15 minutes. Everybody, get your gear, we'll move out in 20", he ordered.

* * *

Anakin palmed open the door to his quarters and stopped short.

"Doctor Hanley", he greeted the obnoxious CMO in a flat voice. "What do you want?"


	34. Endor Part 2

Force of Destiny

Chapter 33: Endor! – Part 2

Summary: An accident reveals an old deception, and Darth Vader must make a decision that will change not only his life.

* * *

Anakin palmed open the door to his quarters and stopped short.

"Doctor Hanley", he greeted the obnoxious CMO in a flat voice. "What do you want?"

Apparently, Hanley had been waiting for him. Anakin did not dwell on the thought that he could be grateful that the man had not accosted him in the hangar, or demanded his presence in sickbay over the intercom. Hanley seemed to have a talent for getting on his nerves, and he simply did not have the patience to deal with the doctor know.

The subject of his musings crossed his arms in front of his chest in a defensive posture.

"Since you, my Lord, do not deem it necessary to follow my instructions, let alone report to sickbay, I came here to do my job."

Anakin stepped closer until he was towering over Hanley.

"Doctor, I do not like that tone of voice", he growled.

"Get used to it, then", Hanley snapped. "You won't be hearing any other tone from me until you grow up and act responsibly."

The Ex-Sith felt his anger rise. How dare he?

"Doctor Hanley, I do not have the patience to deal with you now. In case you did not notice, this ship is going into battle in a few hours, and I would rather do the "responsible" thing and rest before than. Get out!" he spat.

"After I've had a good look at you. And about that going into battle… I thought we agreed that you take it easy for at least a week."

"You agreed. I did nothing of the kind."

Hanley frowned. "You need to work on your attitude, Milord. I am not going to let you fly a ship in your condition."

Anakin was doing his best to reign in his anger, but he felt himself slipping.

"I suggest you get yourself out of my quarters before I lose my patience completely, Doctor."

Hanley stood his ground.

"No chance. I am still the highest medical authority on board, and until you can convince me otherwise, I am declaring you unfit for duty."

That did it. Anakin grabbed Hanley by the front of his uniform, lifted him off his feet, and threw him right across the room. The physician slammed hard into the wall and crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

"Anakin", Obi-Wan's disembodied voice sounded in his head. "You need to work on your control, my boy. Do not let your anger rule you."

"Master, you have no idea." Anakin prodded Hanley's prone body with his booted foot. "The fool actually got off lightly. Had I not taken action now, he would have hauled me to sickbay and kept me there until the war was over or I died of boredom – whatever came first."

Anakin glanced at the ceiling, half expecting Obi-Wan to appear there.

"He's not a bad physician, but he needs his attitude adjusted."

Stepping over Hanley, he moved to the desk and dialled the bridge.

Piett's narrow face appeared on the screen almost immediately.

"Admiral Piett, Dr. Hanley had an unfortunate accident in my quarters. He needs medical attention."

Seeing the expression on the Admiral's face, the former Sith could easily guess his thoughts even without the help of the Force. He sighed.

"No, Piett, he did not develop a sudden inability to breathe. Just… have someone pick him up. Vader out."

* * *

On Endor, the strike team carefully made their way through the woods. So far, they had encountered no Imperial troops. Solo was almost disappointed. With all the supposed security on this moon, getting in had been too easy. But he could not allow himself or his team to be lulled into a false sense of security. The closer they came to the site of the shield generator, the tighter a network of patrols they had to expect.

Not to mention the rescue teams that were bound to be on the lookout for the supposedly crashed shuttle…

Han nearly missed the white flash among the trees; ducking behind a tree himself, he signalled the team to go down. The Correllian peered around the thick trunk. He had not been mistaken. Two Imperial scouts with hover bikes, apparently on their break, blocked their way.

He gestured behind him for the team to take cover. Luke, Leia, Chewbacca, and Jixton silently crept up to his position while the strike team crouched low.

"Alright, kids, do we take them out, or do we go around?" Han asked no-one in particular.

"Taking them out may be dangerous. If they call the base…"

Leia interrupted her brother: "Going around will take too long. We're on a schedule here, remember?"

"Yeah, and we don't know how many more there are." Han ran a hand over his face and came to a decision. "Stay here. Chewie, you come with me."

The Wookiee replied with a low growl and crept silently after his Correllian friend.

Using every bit of cover available, Han Solo silently made his way around the two Imperials and approached them from the other side. Chewie hung back, providing backup should his human friend need it.

Over at the tree Jixton felt the little hairs on his neck stand up. Something was not right here; scouts never came in pairs, without a backup team. He scanned the area until he saw the tip of another hover bike protruding from the greenery. The Corellian elbowed Luke to get the Jedi's attention.

"There's the second team", he breathed, pointing to a 10 o'clock position.

Luke took less than a second to make a decision. "We need to take those out too. Leia, stay here and signal Han. Jixton, come with me."

"Luke, wait!" Leia whispered urgently. "You're not going without me."

But Luke was already crawling on hands and knees towards the two Imperials, with Jixton close on his heels. Leia swallowed a frustrated sigh and readied her blaster.

* * *

The alarm's insistent beeping cut into Anakin's slumber. The former Sith Lord groaned and rolled over on his stomach. It felt like he had closed his eyes for only a minute, when in reality, nearly ten hours had passed. He knew he needed to get up now and prepare for the upcoming battle. The fleet was scheduled to follow the Tydirium to the Endor system sixteen hours after the shuttle's departure. However, the knowledge alone did not help him act accordingly, and so he pulled the pillow over his head, trying to shut out the noise.

The alarm clock continued to beep despite Anakin's best efforts to ignore it.

"Anakin." Obi-Wan's disembodied voice sounded overly loud in Anakin's ears.

"Hnnngg."

"Anakin, wake up!"

"'M 'wake", came the mumbled reply.

"I rather doubt that, my Padawan."

"Alright, alright, don't get pushy, old man."

Rolling back over on his back, Anakin threw the covers off and got up. Still grumbling about annoying dead Jedi under his breath, he padded on bare feet into the bathroom.

* * *

The second scout team was quickly and quietly taken care off. General Han Solo signalled his strike team, and they set off again towards their destination, the shield generator. Not one of them, not even Wrenga Jixton with all of his experience, noticed the two pairs of eyes that followed the rebels, or heard the whispered conversation between the two Ewok warriors.

Wicket and Paploo crept through the underbrush without so much as moving a fern to alert their prey to their presence, all the while keeping a prudent distance; although young, the two were fully qualified hunters and warriors of their tribe. The Ewoks had no love for humans since the tall folk had come to their home world and erected their strange structures, not caring about the trees they cut down or the birds and wild game that fled before their machines. One Ewok tribe had tried to resist the humans, and many had been killed without mercy. The few survivors spread the tale among the other tribes, and for the first time in their history, the Ewoks faced a common enemy.

These new humans seemed enemies of their enemies, Wicket suggested towards Paploo using the hunter's sign language so they would not be heard. Perhaps they should approach them and form an alliance. Paploo, though, shook his head. 'You are too trusting and naïve', he gestured back. 'Because they fight against the other tall folk does not mean they will not turn on us.'

He thought for a moment. 'We shall continue to follow and watch them. We must learn of their plans before we take action.' 'Then we should alert the tribe', Wicket replied. 'Continue to follow them, while I circle back to our village.'


End file.
